Forgive Me, Father, for I Will Sin
by AngelGoddess1981
Summary: Home for Thanksgiving, Bella wakes up in her childhood room . . . but, much to her surprise, she's not alone. The man she's unknowingly shared a bed with just so happens to be the source of her fantasies for years . . . and her dad's closest friend. Can her fantasies finally become a reality? Romance/Drama/Humor
1. Giving Thanks

**Disclaimer: ****_Twilight_**** and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.**

**Rated for serious ****_(not really)_**** adult content and language.**

* * *

**Forgive Me, Father, for I Will Sin**

* * *

**Chapter 1 | Giving Thanks**

It's dark as I stumble up the four stairs leading to the house—though, being two in the morning, I suppose "dark" is to be expected. I shake my head and laugh quietly at myself. This is precisely why I should have stopped after my sixth beer and my...my..._Shit! _Just how many shots of tequila did I have? Should I go to the hospital to see if I have alcohol poisoning?

"Don't be stupid," I admonish myself aloud, fumbling in my purse for the keys to my dad's house. After finding them, I try several times to slide the key into the lock. The double vision brought on by the mass amounts of alcohol clearly makes this simple task even harder. Finally, I bend my body into a ninety-degree angle to look at the lock dead on, and I succeed, turning the key slowly so I don't wake Daddy.

He's actually not expecting me until tomorrow, but my friend, Jess, wanted to head home for Thanksgiving early, and since she was my ride, I decided to do the same. I tried calling to give Daddy a heads up, but he's one of those prehistoric guys who a) doesn't have a cell phone—which is totally crazy—and b) doesn't have an answering machine. You can imagine how it was growing up in a house with a phone that couldn't go farther than the kitchen; he was privy to a lot of my phone conversations up until I got a job and could afford my cell phone.

So, when we got to the house earlier, Daddy was nowhere to be found. I figured he was at work still, so I left my bags upstairs next to my desk, and then accepted Jess' offer to go to the bonfire that a few of our high school friends were throwing on First Beach.

When we arrived on the beach, the party was in full swing, and we were each handed a beer before getting sucked into doing a few shots with Kate and Angela... That's when things begin to get a little hazy.

After closing the door as quietly as possible, I turn around and head up the stairs. Having grown up here, I know that the third step from the top has a squeak near the centre, and to avoid being caught sneaking by Daddy's room, you have to basically hug the wall—of course, you could just skip that step, but in my current state of inebriation, I'd probably fall down the stairs, and then all of my stealth would have been in vain.

I make it to the top of the stairs, smiling and mentally high-fiving my teenage-self for still being able to sneak past Chief Swan's bedroom door at two in the morning. It isn't that I think I'll get in trouble for getting in at this hour—or for being drunk, for that matter, as I am newly twenty-one—I just don't want to wake him up thinking his house is being burglered...um...burgled? _That's a word, right?_

I press my face into my hand, ashamed that _this_ is what has suddenly caught hold of any working brain cells that aren't currently bobbing in a pool of beer and tequila. I open the door to my room, closing it softly as well since it's right across the hall from Daddy's, and I begin to take my clothes off. I'm far too unbalanced and drained to go through my bag to find my pajamas, so I crawl beneath my blankets in just my bra and panties and relax into my single bed, instantly met with the fading, yet familiar and comforting, smell of the fabric softener my dad uses...but there's something else too—something equally familiar that awakens something in the recesses of my brain. I can't quite put my finger on it as my eyes drift shut and sleep sets in; all I know is that I like this particular smell. A lot.

With the amount of alcohol flowing through my veins, my dreams start off strange and confusing, but eventually they change into welcome—and somewhat erotic—images. Okay, so "somewhat" might be an understatement. What can I say? I've been sexually repressed for the last few months. The last guy I dated was really sweet, but we just grew apart over the six months we were together. It's unfortunate, because the sex was pretty great.

God, I miss sex.

The way a man's hands would move over my body, up to my breasts as he lowered his face to take a pert nipple into his mouth… Or how about the way his tongue would flick the sensitive nub before he grazed his teeth over it? It was enough to drive me wild with desire.

My dream slowly morphs from the crazy, psychedelic happenings of leprechauns and unicorns racing down the rainbow path and into one where I'm lying in a king-sized bed with a faceless man who smells absolutely amazing—all sex and deliciousness—and my body begins to warm.

While I can't hear them, the ocean waves are crashing onto the shore of a tropical beach while my mystery man and I lie in a four-poster bed, the sheer white fabrics hanging from the bed posts blowing in the breeze. There aren't any other people around as he grips my hip and pulls me to him. His hand is like warm honey as it trails down my thigh, his fingers hooking behind my knee and pulling it up over his hip. I can feel the hard bulge of his cock press against my pussy, and I whimper, cupping his jaw in my hands and drawing his face to mine for a searing kiss.

His tongue breaches my lips and meets mine halfway; he's an amazing kisser—which only makes sense since my brain made him up, and why would it betray me with someone who absolutely sucked? It would be cruel and quite possibly terms for electro-shock therapy to see if I could fix the glitch.

Mystery guy—who's actually beginning to show a few features, like the dark bronze colour of his hair, the shape of his nose, and the angular cut of his jaw—lets his hand move up from my thigh until he's palming my tit over the bra I still wear, and my nipples strain against the fabric. I moan into his mouth when he hooks his fingers into the top of the cup and pushes it under my breast before rolling the taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I thrust my hips toward him, feeling his dick tease my clit. Goosebumps arise all over my body when he abandons my tit and moves his hand quickly down my body and between my thighs. His fingers easily glide back and forth through my damp arousal, and I shift my hips in time with his movements. The minute he sinks his fingers into me, I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and weave my fingers into his soft hair, the sensation of him pumping them in and out of me bringing me closer and closer to the best orgasm I think I've ever had.

This. Dream. Fucking. ROCKS!

"_Yes,"_ dream-me moans, breaking our kiss and throwing my head back to catch a breath. _"Oh, god, yes..."_

His hand begins to move a bit faster, thrusting a little harder and pressing his thumb against my clit to push me over the edge. Then he speaks for the first time. "That's it, baby," he says hoarsely, his hot breath tickling the skin below my ear as he peppers it with open-mouthed kisses. "You're so fucking wet for me."

Mixed emotions run through me immediately; while I don't want this dream to end until I've come, I also realize that something is amiss. Something feels—

_Holy shit! I know that voice!_

While he has been the object of many fantasies over the last five years, something in my brain tells me to push him away, and when I do, I fall off the edge of the bed. Instead of meeting the warm sand on the beach, however, I meet the cool wood of my bedroom floor. My eyes snap open when I bang my elbow on the edge of my bedside table, and I look up toward my bed to find that it's not empty.

In it, sits Edward Cullen…my dad's best friend. Yeah. Talk about complicated. Add to that, he's married—not happily, last I'd heard, but still married...I think. Could that be why he's here? Maybe he and Ice-Bitch had a fight.

The thought of this excites me because I've had a crush on Edward since I was sixteen—okay, so I've had it a little longer than that, but it wasn't until I was sixteen that I let him star in every single one of my erotic fantasies.

I'm breathing heavily as my wide eyes move back and forth between his. He looks equally as horrified and confused by what just happened, but that doesn't stop me from overreacting. "What the hell are you doing?" I demand shrilly, immediately clamping my hand over my mouth; the last thing we need is Daddy barging in here to find Edward in my bed and me half-naked on the fl—

My stomach lurches, and I can't even finish my thought as I look down to find that my boob is hanging out of my bra like it was in the dream. My cheeks flame, and I quickly right the problem, reaching for my comforter for a little bit of cover from his heated stare.

"Y-you don't want to do that," he tells me, holding it firmly against his lower half.

Understanding his dilemma, I relinquish my hold on the blanket and grab my pillow instead, standing up and hugging it to my body lengthwise as a shield. "What are you doing?" I repeat, my voice tight and a little bit squeaky now.

"I'm sorry," he's quick to offer.

"Why are you in my bed?" I interrupt.

"Tanya and I have decided to separate," he begins, and my stomach flutters—stupid stomach clearly doesn't know that this is _not_ the time. "I came to see Charlie. We got to talking, I had quite a bit to drink, and he said I should stay the night."

"In my room," I state, my eyebrows rising.

Edward buries his face in his hands and rubs it roughly before dragging them up and through his hair. "He assured me you wouldn't be here until tomorrow some time. Bella, if I'd have known, I'd have taken the couch."

"I decided to come early—" I gasp sharply as I watch Edward's face redden further, and I begin to backpedal. "I mean...n-not _come_..." I'm really just making everything worse, so I stop trying.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and I turn around quickly, unintentionally giving Edward a perfect view of my ass.

"Edward? You up?"

_That's disturbingly accurate._ When Edward snickers behind me, I realize my filter is not fully operational yet.

"Yeah, Charlie," he answers; I can hear the smile on his face, and when I turn my head a little, I find his eyes locked on me, so I offer him a little smile. The longer I look at him, sitting half—or fully—naked in my bed, makes me wonder just how far we would have gone had my brain not made the connection to his voice. He looks delicious as ever, with his hair in sexy disarray; in so very many of my fantasies, I have thrust my fingers into it to hold him close. Thinking this sends a rush of warmth through me, and my pulse races as a dull ache settles between my legs. What's not helping this situation any is that this is the first time I've seen him without a shirt on in years—probably since I was just a girl. He hasn't changed much from what I can remember, and my mind failed to ever do him justice in this department. He's in great shape—honestly, I'm probably underselling it—and I can't keep my eyes from admiring this aspect.

"You on the phone with Tanya? I thought I heard voices." My dad's voice breaks me from my ogling.

_Oh god oh god oh god..._

Glancing back toward the door, I back up slowly until my legs hit the edge of my bed. I sit down on it, my ass brushing against Edward's muscular calf; I'm too afraid to move, though, because I'm pretty sure Daddy's going to open that door and find us both in here looking guilty when we're not...not _entirely_, anyway_._

"Uh, yeah..." My head snaps around to look at Edward as he lies to my father. "Well, not to Tanya, but...work." Smiling, he continues. "I called to let them know I wouldn't be in today."

"Good plan," Dad replies through the door, and I hold my breath, just waiting for that door to open and for him to jump to all the wrong conclusions.

_Is he going to be mad? _I begin to wonder. _Who will he be most mad at? Me? Edward? Who will he think initiated this?_ _This isn't going to be good... _Expecting the worst, my stomach rolls—partly due to my drinking last night, and partly out of fear—but I fight back the nausea and wait.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go and make coffee. You hungry?" We simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief upon hearing this.

"Uh, yeah. That sounds great," Edward replies, and then we hear the sounds of Daddy's footsteps retreat toward the stairs.

Even though the threat is gone, I'm still numb from almost being caught. The bed dips behind me, and before I know it, Edward's leaping off the bed with my bed sheet wrapped around him. It slips a little as he opens the door, and I'm privy to a partial view of his right ass cheek—I won't lie; I want to bite it a little. Don't ask why, I just do.

"Okay, the coast is clear." He turns around and sees me gawking at him. "That was close." He laughs nervously, running his fingers through his hair.

I nod, forcing my eyes back to his. "Yeah. Close." My voice is low and hoarse, and I can't help but think he isn't _just _talking about getting caught by Dad. "So, what do we do?" I ask. "I mean, it seems like he doesn't know I'm here yet, so how do I get past him?" This whole situation is a little fucked up, and I can't believe I'm trying to come up with a plan to sneak out in the morning so I can traipse through the front door like I've just arrived for Thanksgiving weekend.

"I guess I could climb out the window," I suggest, only to be met with a sharp glare from Edward.

"You most certainly will _not_ be climbing out the window," he commands in a harsh whisper. "Jesus, the last time you did that, you broke your damn arm."

He's talking about when I was fifteen and got grounded; I tried to run away, but when I got out onto the ledge, I slipped on some ice and fell. Needless to say, my sentence was lengthened—even though I was in severe pain.

"I'll go downstairs," Edward offers, bending over to pick up his clothes. "I'll stand by the kitchen and keep your father distracted. When the time is right, I'll wave you down—just, keep to the wall and watch out for that one step. If he catches us, we're dead."

I smile up at him. "You make it sound like we actually did something wrong here."

"We did enough to give your father reason to jump to conclusions."

Clutching his jeans and T-shirt in his hands, he looks down at me expectantly, and it takes me a little longer than normal to realize that he wants us to get dressed. "Oh, shit. Sorry." I stand up and go through my bag for a fresh pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, then I head over to my dresser, keeping my back to him, and quickly pull them on. When I hear the soft rustle of the sheet falling to the floor, I can't help but adjust the small mirror on the dresser and take a tiny peek. Unfortunately, I only get a brief glance of his ass when he drops the sheet and pulls his jeans on before quickly doing them up and yanking his black shirt over his head.

"Okay, I'll go down first," Edward says, running his long fingers through his hair, and I turn around as though I'm completely innocent, running my brush through my hair and throwing it up into a ponytail. "You stay up here and watch for my signal."

I nod once in understanding as we walk toward the door, and before Edward opens it quietly, he looks down at me, his eyes briefly glancing down at the very slight view of my cleavage. Seeing this thrills me, but I also find it a little bizarre. There's something in his eyes—something that disappears as quickly as it had appeared—that suggests maybe he's attracted to me. I shake the thought off, because, once again, he's my father's _best friend_. There's no way this could ever happen.

Before Edward takes his first step down the stairs, he turns around. There's less than a foot between us, and that look is in his eyes again as they lock on mine. "Bella," he breathes softly.

I swallow thickly, my head bobbing up and down. "Y-yes?"

My breathing picks up, and my heart begins hammering away against my ribs like it's trying to escape. He's so close that I can smell him, and I begin to think that maybe he's going to kiss me when he licks his lips. "For what it's worth, I'm terribly sorry for what happened this morning."

While I believe his words to be true, I can't tell if he's sorry about what happened, or if he's sorry because of the connection we share: my dad. Forcing a smile to my face, I shrug. "It's okay," I assure him. "I think it's safe to say that what happened wasn't entirely your fault."

"Regardless," he argues. "I am sorry."

Without another word, Edward heads downstairs, and I watch as he takes his position in the kitchen doorway. "Smells good down here, Charlie." He leans against the wall and quickly glances over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Ed. I hope you're in the mood for bacon and eggs. I'm afraid it's all I know how to make," Daddy replies with a laugh. "If you decide to stick around for the weekend, Bella should be home sometime today, and she's a master in the kitchen."

Edward shifts, and even though I can't see his face, I can tell he's nervous. "I might just take you up on that. God knows I don't want to go back to Seattle until Tanya gets her shit out of the condo."

So, Tanya's moving out, and Edward only came here to give her the time and space to do that. I wonder what happened...other than her being a stone-cold bitch.

I'm so wrapped up in wondering what went down between the two of them that I almost miss Edward waving me on. I immediately press my back to the wall and carefully make my way downstairs. Once I'm on the main floor, Edward shoots me a brief smile and then returns his eyes to the kitchen. "Can I give you a hand, Charlie?"

I quietly disengage the lock and slip outside, pulling the door closed as quietly as possible. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer, and I lean against the house for a minute to catch my breath before I make my presence known. As I inhale and exhale deeply, I look out over the front yard and notice, for the first time, that Edward's car is parked in the driveway. "Huh," I grunt in surprise as I pop a stick of gum in my mouth to mask my morning breath until I can sneak _back _upstairs.

Once my heart and breathing regulate, I steel my resolve and open the front door. "Hello?" I call out. "Daddy? I'm home!"

From the kitchen, I hear a set of heavy footsteps, and then Daddy appears. The elation I feel when I see him isn't for show; it's been months since we've seen each other, and this reunion is no different than any other.

"Bells!" he exclaims, rushing forward and pulling me into his arms.

Throwing my arms around his neck, I giggle as he lifts me off the ground and squeezes me tightly. "Hey, Dad." He sets me down, and I arch an eyebrow as I take in his features. "Still rockin' the porn 'stache, I see,"

"Easy, now," he mock-threatens. "I'll have you know, the ladies love it."

I shudder, but also fail at suppressing a laugh. "Ew, Dad. Anytime you want to quit bragging about being a ladies' man, you just let me know."

Dad smirks, making the outer corners of his eyes wrinkle slightly. "Don't hold your breath." I laugh, and before I can say anything else, he wraps an arm around me and leads me to the kitchen. "You hungry? I wasn't expecting you until later this afternoon."

"Oh, yeah, Jess wanted to come in early."

"Well, I'm glad. We very rarely see each other, and this gives us a little more time together." He pauses, stopping to look behind us at the front door. "Where are your things?"

_Shit._

"Oh...uh..." I begin to panic, but then I realize that I don't necessarily have to lie, I only have to omit a few key points. "Actually, Jess and I got in last night. I stopped by here, but no one was home, so I dropped off my things before Jess and I went to a party."

Dad accepts this, and we continue on toward the kitchen. When we step through the threshold, I find Edward at the stove, flipping bacon in the frying pan. "Look who came home early," Dad announces, drawing Edward's attention.

"Hey, Bella. Long time, no see."

_Oh, he's hilarious._ I fight back a smile and shake my head. "Edward. It's nice to see you again. How are things?"

"Better now that you're home," he replies. "I was afraid your dad was going to attempt to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year."

"Mmm," I hum, leaning over the island counter to watch Edward cook. I reach out and grab a piece of already-cooked bacon off the plate between us and take a bite. "Beer and spaghetti with sauce from a jar. Sounds heavenly."

"Hey, now," Daddy speaks up from behind me. "I'll have you both know that I'd have at least gone out and bought a pre-cooked chicken or something."

The three of us laugh, and I almost forget about the morning's events—almost; every time I look over at Edward, I find him glancing at me in some way or another, and the intensity of his brief stare is enough to make my entire body blush.

Before breakfast is ready, I excuse myself to use the bathroom and quickly brush my teeth. By the time I come back downstairs, Dad and Edward have set the table and are just bringing the food over. When we've all taken our seats and dished up, we talk about tomorrow's dinner. "I can head into the market this afternoon while you're at work and grab everything I need."

Dad looks up at me, looking apologetic. "I guess now's not a good time to tell you your truck's dead, is it?"

"What?" I demand sadly. "When did this happen?"

"About a week and a half ago. I went out to start it up, and it just died," he responds. "Jake came out to take a look, but there was nothing he could do that wasn't going to cost a small fortune, and I figured that it would be more cost efficient to buy a newer vehicle for the amount it would cost to fix the beast."

It sucks; I really loved that truck.

"Okay, I guess I can bus it. It shouldn't be too difficult to bring everything ba—"

"Why don't I drive you?" Edward interrupts, surprising me. "I mean, I have nothing to do this afternoon, so if you don't mind me tagging along, I could give you a ride there and back."

I can't look him in the eye, because after countless fantasies and then this morning, his offer to "give me a ride" stirs up a world of inappropriate images. "Thank you, Edward. That would be great."

After breakfast, I offer to clean up, and Daddy heads upstairs to put his uniform on. I've just begun washing the dishes when Edward appears beside me with a dishtowel in his hand. I hand him the first dish, and when his fingers brush mine, a spark of desire shoots through me, settling deep in my stomach and inching its way down below. With a shaky breath, I look up to see that he looks just as stunned by this innocent touch. The only difference is shame fills his eyes before he tears them away from me, while I let my imagination run wild and visualize pushing him up against the counter and having my way with him.

"Okay," Dad says behind us, startling me. "I'm headed into the station. Bells, I'll leave the money for the groceries on the table. Don't forget the pies."

My shoulders slump, and I shake my head. "Dad, I'm not buying the pies. I'll make them like Gran used to."

"No," Dad argues. "You're already going to be busy cooking. Just buy them, it's fine."

"Forget it. I'm making them. End. Of. Story."

Shaking his head, he turns and heads away from the kitchen after dropping a stack of cash on the table and mutters, "So damn stubborn."

"I wonder where I got that from!" I playfully shout after him. "Have a good day!"

The front door closes after his laugh, and I turn to Edward, leaning my hip against the counter and crossing my arms. "So, Dad wants pumpkin, but what's your favourite kind of pie?"

His eyes nearly bug out of his head before I realize my unintended innuendo. I smile and try to laugh my way through it as I backpedal—something I seem to be doing a lot of this morning. "Clearly, _that's_ not what I meant. Wow, I'm really on a roll today, huh?"

"It's fine," Edward says, his green eyes returning to their normal size. "I've apparently turned into a dirty old man who pounces on young girls while sleeping and reads a little too deeply into everything that's said."

"Who's to say you did the pouncing?" I inquire teasingly. "If my dream was as real as it felt, I think it was me that instigated this whole thing—and, for the record, you're not _old_."

His eyes fall to the dishtowel in his hands, and he dries them roughly. "Old enough, Bella." There's something about his tone that throws me off; I don't sense shame behind his statement, but..._disappointment?_

_No_, I tell myself, feeling a little silly. _You're reading too much into this. There's no way that Edward Cullen, your father's _best friend_, looks at you in that way._

"So, when did you want to head to the store?" Edward asks, changing the topic entirely.

"Um, let me shower quickly, and then we can go any time after that?" I suggest.

Edward nods. "Sure. I'd actually like to grab a shower, too. You go first."

"Cool. Thanks." I head upstairs and dig through my bag for my toiletries, grab a towel from the hall closet, and start the shower. As the bathroom fills with a warm fog, I undress, pull my hair from the ponytail, and step beneath the warm spray of water. Sighing in contentment, I realize just how much I missed the shower here; the one in my off-campus apartment has absolutely no water pressure.

While I would love nothing more than to stay in the warm water, I don't want to use up all of the hot water before Edward can have a turn, so I shut the water off after washing my hair and body. After quickly drying off, I get dressed and then comb my hair, leaving it down to dry. When I arrive downstairs, I find Edward on the living room couch, reading the paper.

"Okay, it's all yours," I tell him, climbing over the back of the couch and flopping down next to him, cross-legged. My knee brushes his thigh, and his gaze snaps to mine. Before he can make a big deal out of it, I smile and snatch the paper out of his hands. "Whatcha reading?"

"The, uh, headlines," he stammers, standing up. "I won't be long."

"Cool," I reply with a bright smile as I flip to the crossword. "I'll be puzzling."

"That you are, Bella...among many things," he quips with a laugh, and I narrow my eyes.

Pursing my lips to suppress a smile, I tear a page off the paper and crumple it, throwing it at him. "Funny. Go shower before I take the keys to your precious Lexus and go to the market myself."

"All right, all right," Edward surrenders, holding his hands in front of him as he backs out of the living room. "No need to resort to grand theft auto."

While Edward showers, I play around with the crossword, skipping the ones that stump me with the intention of returning to them after I get a few more answers. I get all but six done when I hear Edward descend the stairs, and I put the paper on the coffee table and stand up.

"You ready?" he asks, running his fingers through his water-darkened hair. My eyes roam over his upper body, appreciating the fit of his black T-shirt and how low his jeans hang on his hips. With his hand still in his hair, the hem of his shirt rises, giving me a glimpse of his lower abs and hipbones.

"Mmmhmm," I hum, biting the inside of my cheek lightly; it's ridiculous just how attractive he is.

The drive to the market starts off quiet, so I reach out and turn the radio on, and I'm just about to ask him about work when his phone rings. I watch him pick it up from his console and scowl before dropping it back down.

"Tanya?" I ask carefully, not wanting to upset him.

Edward sighs heavily and grips the wheel tightly with both hands. "She's relentless."

I want to ask him about it and let him know that I'm here if he wants to talk, but why would he want to talk about his marital strife with a girl half his age?

When we arrive at the store, Edward pushes the cart while I pile everything we'll need in it. He eventually tells me that he's a fan of apple pie, so I grab some fresh apples and all of the ingredients I'll need for the desserts, and we head over to the poultry section for the bird. It's slim pickings, but that's not surprising considering it's the day before Thanksgiving.

"Is it just you, me, and Dad?" I ask Edward as I look through the six turkeys they have left.

"Actually, I think he was going to invite Billy and his boy, as well as Sue and her kids," Edward informs me, so I grab the biggest turkey and put it in the cart before leading the way to the check out. After paying, Edward and I take our groceries to the car.

"Hey, do you mind if we stop for some wine?" I ask Edward as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I'd like a couple bottles for dinner tomorrow night, but I also enjoy a glass or two while I'm baking."

"Sure. We'll stop on the way back to the house."

We stop at the liquor store on the corner, and Edward and I go in and part ways; he's decided to grab some beer for him and Dad for after dinner, and I go to select the wine. While I haven't been twenty-one for long, I've been allowed the occasional glass of wine on special occasions, so I know what I like. Because I'm not sure who prefers red and who prefers white, I grab a couple bottles of each and head for the check out. Edward is already there, and it looks as though he's waiting for me before he pays.

"Oh, no. I'll pay for the wine," I tell him. "It's fine."

"Bella, don't be ridiculous," he orders with a smile. "Just put the damn wine on the counter and let me take care of it. It's the least I could do considering your dad's letting me stay for the weekend and...well, after last night."

The clerk looks between us, almost knowingly, and I feel my cheeks warm as I set the four bottles on the counter so he can ring them through. Edward is quick to pay, and we gather our things and head back to my Dad's place.

It's almost two in the afternoon when we arrive back at the house, and I set the turkey in the sink to thaw entirely so I can put it in the oven first thing in the morning. Before I get started on the pies, I go to the cupboard for a wine glass. "Edward?" I call out, and he appears moments later. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"I'd love one, thanks," he accepts, leaning on the island where my ingredients for the piecrusts are scattered haphazardly. "You need a hand?"

Stunned, I turn my head to him as I pull the glasses from the shelf. "Really?" He nods. "Okay. Yeah." I pour us each a glass of red, and we each take a sip before starting on the piecrusts.

Conversation comes a little easier as we drink, measure, and mix together. We're on our second glass of wine, and the alcohol warms my blood, making my limbs begin to tingle as it travels through me. When I tell Edward about school, he seems truly interested, especially when I tell him I want to pursue a career in journalism.

"Well, you always did have a knack for sticking your nose in other people's business," he teases. "This time, you'll actually get paid for it."

My mouth falls open, and I stare at him wide-eyed as I scoop up some of the flour from the counter and toss it at him playfully. "Was that really called for?" I demand with a laugh as he brings his arms up to shield himself from my second attack.

Edward's own laugh fills the kitchen, and he retaliates, picking up a pinch of flour and tossing it at me. The dough and wine are forgotten as we begin flinging bits of flour at each other. My laughter joins his, and I toss more in his direction; his hair and shirt are covered in flour dust, so I can only imagine the state I'm in.

When Edward side-steps the island, I back away, holding my hands in front of me in surrender. "Wait," I tell him through a fit of giggles as he gathers more flour in his hand. "You don't want to do this."

"Don't I?" he demands, his voice low and his eyes locked on mine. As he approaches, I not only see that he's having as much fun as I am, but there's something else in his eyes that reminds me of earlier. It's a combination of a few things, but the most dominant emotion I can see is desire.

When the doorbell rings, I move to duck around him. "I'll get it!" I exclaim, sliding around him. Because he hasn't left much room between the end of the island and the wall, my body winds up brushing up against him, and my hands instinctively reach out to graze his waist as I slip by, leaving two floury handprints that I don't think twice about as I dash to the front door, laughing.

"When I get back in there, I expect that kitchen to be clean and my wine glass to be full!" I'm not at all serious, and he knows it, too, because he laughs loudly as I yank the door open and meet the ice-blue stare of our visitor. I inhale sharply, choking on my laughter. "T-Tanya."

She smiles, but it's not warm and friendly. "Bella, how nice to see you again." Her eyes move up and down, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I look over at the mirror by the front door to see that I've got flour all in my dark hair, and my face and shirt are covered with it.

"Bella?" Edward calls from the kitchen. "Who is i—" He doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before he's joined us. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he demands angrily.

Tanya looks between the two of us, all covered in flour, and I know what she must be thinking—especially when her gaze falls to Edward's waist and sees my handprints there. Her eyes widen, and she looks at me with a very pointed and piercing stare. "What exactly have I walked in on?" She looks back to Edward. "Little young, don't you think?"

"Bella, go back to the kitchen. You don't need to take this."

"Oh," Tanya interjects, taking an uninvited step into the house. "Actually, I think she does. You think you can screw _my _husband?"

"I-I..." I stammer nervously.

"Bella, go," Edward hisses, grabbing me by the elbow and gently pulling me back. "Tanya, go back to Seattle and finish getting your shit out of the condo."

Not wanting to intrude, I rush back to the kitchen and flop down in one of the dining room chairs. While Edward is trying to keep his voice low, Tanya does anything but; she wants to make as big a production as possible—it's not in her nature to do otherwise.

"So this is why you left? So you could play house with a girl half your age?"

"Go home, Tanya—wherever that is now." I can tell Edward is trying to remain calm, but I can hear the anger slowly beginning to escalate; I've known him long enough and heard enough of their fights to know when he's close to his breaking point.

Tanya scoffs. "You can't really be willing to throw away thirteen years of marriage for her."

"Not for her," Edward assures her. "But because you couldn't stop sleeping around!"

I slap my hands over my mouth to contain a gasp; she _cheated_ on him? Why the motherfuck would anyone cheat on him?

"And you'd throw away thirteen years of marriage for one minor indiscretion?"

"Minor?" Edward barks out a laugh. "_One?_ Four different men, Tanya. Four. I'd say that classifies as a little more than a minor indiscretion."

"But, Ed—"

"No!" he shouts, startling even me. "Go back to Seattle and pack your shit. I want you gone before I get back on Tuesday."

"But, I love you," she tries to bargain sweetly, but even I can see through it; she's so damn transparent.

"No, you love my money. Now _go_!"

The door slams, and I stand up and turn around just as Edward returns. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. I didn't think she'd show up here."

I shake my head and take a few slow steps toward him, almost like I'm afraid of spooking him. "Don't be sorry. _I'm_ sorry. I'm sure this couldn't have looked good."

"Like I give a shit how it looked to her," he said, his eyes showing his pain. "She sure as fuck didn't care how I would feel, so if she thinks something is going on between us, so be it." I can see that he's hurting, and when the rims of his eyes begin to turn red, I cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around his neck without another thought. He welcomes my embrace, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and holding me close. "I'm sorry your wife is such a bitch." This makes Edward laugh, his chest rising and falling against mine. "I mean, I'm not sorry like I think it's my fault—she was a bitch long before this."

"That she was," Edward concurs with a chuckle, releasing his hold on me a little. His hands remain on my waist, and mine slide down to his chest as we look each other in the eye. "I'm just sorry I didn't see it until now."

"Love is blind," I tell him softly, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt without my brain's permission to do so. He's so close that I can feel his heart begin to race, and the warmth of his body against mine makes me tremble slightly.

"I'm beginning to get that." The low rasp in his voice excites me, the gravelly sound of it vibrating deep to my bones, and his fingers curl against my back, holding me closer. "Bella..."

"Yes?" I ask breathlessly as he lowers his face to mine slowly. We're mere inches apart, and I mentally will him to come closer.

"We shouldn't..." The conflict is back in his eyes, but the fact that he refuses to let go of me bodes well for me experiencing what it would be like to kiss Edward Cullen—correction: _consciously _kiss Edward Cullen.

"Maybe not," I whisper, bringing one of my hands up and stroking his jaw in an effort to coax him closer. "But why fight it?"

My entire body hums and vibrates with anticipation as he draws near, and when his nose brushes mine, I inhale a shuddering breath.

"Tell me to stop," he pleads, his lips ghosting mine with every word.

"I can't," I confess, locking eyes with him again. "I've wanted this for so long."

This seems to shock him, but not in a bad way. Instead, he smirks and shrugs one shoulder. "Well then, I guess that makes two of us."

Before I can declare my own surprise, his lips are on mine, working fervently as his tongue sweeps over my bottom lip. Kissing Edward is better than I ever could have imagined, and he tastes like a heavenly combination of salty and sweet as we deepen our kiss, our tongues mingling and sliding with one another. His strong arms tighten around me more, and I thrust my fingers into his hair to hold him close. With a deep groan, he walks us toward the island until my back is against the edge, and his hands creep down my ass and grip it firmly, getting ready to lift me up.

Then the front door opens.

"Bells?" Daddy calls out, forcing me and Edward to part like the Red Sea. "Edward?"

"I'm so sorry," Edward rushes to apologize, and I shake my head, silently telling him he has no reason to.

When I see that my handprints are still clearly all over Edward's shirt, I look down at my own shirt and begin to swat at it frantically in an effort to get rid of any incriminating evidence. Edward does the same, and we're successful in hiding most of it when Dad enters the kitchen.

He looks between Edward and I, one of his eyebrows arched suspiciously, and his eyes widen. "What the hell happened here?"

My heart begins to race, and I can't seem to get enough oxygen as panic takes a firm hold of me and squeezes. The room appears to be getting darker around the outer corners of my vision, and my chest feels tight with every breath I take. How are we going to get ourselves out of this? I look to Edward for help, but he seems just as stunned as me—fearful for his life, even.

"It looks like the bag of flour exploded in here."

"Oh," I breathe with relief, my heart slowly returning to a normal pace. "Edward was being a smartass, and I felt the strong urge to throw flour at him. Little did I know he would retaliate."

"Like I would just sit there and take it," he ribs playfully.

Dad eyes us suspiciously again, but before he can figure everything out with his super-cop powers of investigation, I smile and get back to the forgotten dough. "So, Daddy, what are you doing home so early?"

"Turns out one of my men isn't 'feeling well,' so I have to go and work the graveyard tonight, too," Dad explains, and I glance quickly at Edward who refuses to meet my eyes. "I just stopped by to grab something to eat for dinner tonight and to let you guys know I won't be home until late."

"Okay," I reply, pressing the last crust into the pan and brushing my hands on the dishtowel to get rid of the flour. "Well, let me make you something for dinner then."

Before he can turn down my offer, I begin rifling through the fridge looking for something to make while he and Edward talk about Tanya showing up. Dad seems pissed that she would show up here after what she did to Edward.

"I think you need to go out and find some hot, young thing to help you forget all about Tanya." Shocked, stunned, and just a little bit horrified that _my father_ would suggest something like this, I choke and sputter, just barely missing the tip of my finger with the knife as I cut Dad's ham and cheese sandwich in half.

"Bells?" Dad inquires, preparing to stand from the table.

Holding up one hand, I clear my throat, and my face feels like it's on fire. "I'm fine. I just never would have figured you as the type to suggest something like that."

Dad grumbles gruffly. "The situation more than calls for it."

Looking back down at the countertop, I let a small smile form. "I, um, actually don't think it's such a bad idea." This time, it's Edward's turn to choke and sputter on the sip of wine he's just taken. "I'm just saying, if you're lucky enough to find someone who'd be willing to help you out with something like that, then why the hell not?"

Dad seems happy that I've taken his side—though, I suppose if he knew I was really suggesting that Edward forget about the Ice-Bitch with_me_, he might kick Edward out of the house and lock me in my room for all eternity. I guess I'll just have to keep that little factoid to myself.

"Okay, Dad, here's your dinner. You sticking around for a bit longer?"

Dad looks at his watch and sighs. "Can't. You two have a good night, and I'll see you in the morning." He takes his lunch bag from me and kisses the top of my head. "Sleep well, Bells." Then he turns to Edward. "Sorry, but now that Bella's here, you'll have to take the couch."

Edward smiles, but it looks a little forced. "Figured as much. Thanks again for letting me stay until everything gets sorted out."

"Of course." Dad says one more goodbye to us both, and then heads for the door. Edward and I remain silent until we hear the front door close and Dad's cruiser back out of the driveway.

"More wine?" I offer, not sure what else I should say.

Edward only nods, choosing to remain silent as he brings his glass to me for a refill. After he's got his wine, he looks at me apologetically. "I'm going to go hang out in the living room for a bit so you can get everything done."

"Edward," I begin to protest, but it's no use; he leaves me alone in the kitchen. I debate whether or not to go after him, but I figure he needs a minute to himself. With everything that happened today, he's had an emotionally tumultuous afternoon.

The silence in the kitchen is deafening, so I decide to turn on the radio while I finish the pies. The next hour and a half goes by pretty quickly, and the kitchen is spotless by the time the pies are done in the oven. After I take them out to cool, I grab the bottle of wine and my glass and head into the living room to find Edward sitting in silence on the couch.

"Hey," I greet quietly, walking around the couch to sit next to him. "You okay?"

He acknowledges me with a small smile. "Yeah. Fine."

Things between us seem awkward—but I suppose that's to be expected after the day we've had—and we remain in uncomfortable silence for a while, both of us drinking our wine and refilling our glasses a couple of times. I'm starting to feel a little lightheaded as the alcohol takes effect, and I'm unsure what to say to break the silence.

Thankfully, Edward speaks first. "Bella, what your father suggested...well, that still doesn't make what happened okay." He rubs his hand over his face roughly before tugging it through his hair. "God, you're the daughter of my best friend. I've known him for over thirty years—I was there the day your mother gave birth to you, for fuck's sake."

I can feel his stress rolling off him in waves as he overthinks this. "Edward"—his eyes rise to mine—"I know that this wasn't something that either one of us expected, but you can't deny that there's something here."

"It's still wrong."

My arms and legs feel weightless and tingly from the wine as I inch closer to him on the couch, getting close enough that my knee brushes his thigh. "Is it, though? I'm twenty-one—an adult. You wouldn't be doing anything _wrong_ or untoward. I want this—have for so long—and you said you thought about it, too..." I pause for a second, biting the inside of my cheek as I prepare my next move. "Can I ask you something?" He nods once, seeming unsure. "How long have you thought about me this way?"

"Too long," he replies softly, reaching out and placing his hand over mine. My gaze shifts to where his thumb moves over the back of my hand, and I sigh as the sensation causes goosebumps to travel up my arm and neck. "Since the last time I saw you two years ago." He laughs once, humoured by something still unspoken. "It was Thanksgiving, actually, and you had brought that boy home...Felix. I hated him—for reasons that didn't make sense to me then."

"Uh huh," I whisper, turning my hand over beneath his and letting our fingers naturally thread together.

"It was only after you left to go back to school that I realized I wanted you more than I should." I look up from our hands to find him staring intensely at me.

"Okay," I respond. "Well, I'm not with him anymore, and you're a free agent now...so, let's just give in."

"What about your—?"

I press my finger to his lips to stop him from saying the one thing that could kill the mood. "We'll worry about that later. Who's to say this goes beyond today—beyond right now? Why can't this just be about two people giving in to their impulses?"

"Y-you'd be okay with that?" Edward asks, uncertainty still lacing his velvety voice. "You'd be okay with a casual tryst with a man twice your age?"

"This age thing really bothers you, doesn't it?"

He looks perplexed. "It doesn't bother you?"

I shake my head. "Not in the slightest. It might if this were five years ago, but right now? I couldn't care less." I lean in close, our noses less than an inch from touching. "No one has to know, if that's what you're worried about."

"You're sure this is what you want?" The desire in his eyes tells me what he wants; he just wants to make sure it's one hundred percent consensual.

Running my hand over his jaw, I laugh breathily and brush the tip of my nose over his. "I wouldn't be throwing myself at you if I didn't."

The awkward air in the room suddenly dissipates as Edward leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to mine. I whimper, releasing his hand from mine and bring it up to mirror the position of the other along his chiseled jaw. Maybe it's due to the bottle of wine coursing through our veins, but things between us escalate quickly, and Edward's hands ensnare my hips, pulling me onto his lap. Now that I'm straddling his thighs, I can feel his erection pressing firmly against my pussy, and I shift my hips forward to help ease the steady pulse of arousal.

"God, Bella," he moans into my mouth as I shift my hips again. "We shouldn't do this here..."

"Then take me upstairs," I tell him, throwing my head back so he can kiss the length of my throat.

He groans, gripping my ass and standing up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he makes his way for the stairs, and when we reach the top, I pull his face back to mine and kiss him deeply, my tongue seeking his out voraciously. He kicks my bedroom door closed and lowers us to my bed, pressing himself firmly between my legs. This time, it's his hips that move, thrusting against me and making my skin tingle and ache with pure ecstasy.

My fantasies of Edward and me locked in a similar embrace don't even compare to how his hands feel moving from my ass and beneath my shirt. His hands are warm as they run up the length of my stomach and toward my breasts. When he palms them both, my back arches off the bed as much as it can beneath him. I mewl into his fervent kiss as he pulls the cups to my bra down, exposing my hardened nipples to his dexterous fingers.

"Take it off," I command breathlessly. "All of it."

Edward pushes himself to his knees, and I sit up, lifting my arms as he removes my shirt and tosses it to the floor. While he removes his own, I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, tossing it to the floor, too. My eyes move over his bare chest, and I bring my hands up to touch him for the first time, letting them glide slowly down his body and through the light hair under his belly button that disappears behind his jeans. My fingers rest on the buckle of his belt, and I look up at him, giving him the opportunity to stop this if he's still uncertain. All I see is how much he wants this—_needs _it, even—and I slip the leather from the buckle and work the button of his jeans free before lowering the zipper carefully.

He removes himself from between my legs and stands next to my single bed, slipping his hands into his jeans at his hips and sliding them down. Naturally, having seen the rest of him already, I can't help but focus on his cock. Now, I've seen a few in my lifetime, and while this one looks no different—maybe a little thicker and longer than some—I think the fact that it's _Edward's_ is what has me so transfixed.

It isn't until he repositions himself between my thighs that I'm able to tear my gaze away from it, meeting his intense gaze again. As he lowers his lips to mine, his fingers dip behind the waist of my jeans and slip the metal button through the eyelet before he pulls them slowly down my legs.

By the time we're both naked, I'm breathing pretty heavily, my pulse is racing, and I'm fighting the urge to wrap my legs around him and pull him to me. While I've had plenty of healthy relationships and enjoyed sex over the years, I've never quite felt this way. There's something about Edward that excites me—that calls to me like no other man ever has.

He settles between my legs again, and I can feel the tip of his erection resting against my sensitive flesh. My legs move up instinctively, my heels digging lightly into his ass and coaxing him forward, when all of a sudden, his eyes widen, and he freezes.

"What is it?" I ask, worried that he's having second thoughts. "Did you...change your mind?"

"What?" He sounds incredulous, and his eyebrows furrow in disbelief. "Not at all. It's just...I wasn't expecting something like this to happen. I don't have any condoms."

"I'm on the pill," I assure him with a smile, trying again to pull him forward.

He remains unmoving. "And my wife just cheated on me."

Shit just got serious. "So this is one of those scenarios where 'no glove, no love' really does apply, huh?"

He groans, clenching his eyes shut. "I'm afraid so."

An idea starts forming in my mind. It's a little messed up, but I'm feeling pretty desperate, and I don't think Edward would object as long as I didn't go into too many details. I bite the bullet and decide to tell him. "I think I know where some are. Wait right here."

The knowledge of what I'm about to do may stay with me to my grave, but I shove it from my mind and quickly run into my father's room. I'm in luck—and equally disturbed—to find what looks like a pretty new and open box of condoms in the drawer, and when I reemerge with the all-important foil in hand, Edward smiles, reaching out and pulling me back to him…

"Thank god," he exhales as he rips the robe from my body.

I lie back on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows so I can watch him roll the rubber over his stiff length. Once it's in place, he repositions himself between my thighs, his hands moving from my knees to my thighs and pulling me toward him until we are aligned. Bringing one of his hands inward, his thumb brushes my swollen clit, and my hips buck against his touch.

He wastes no time easing his way inside of me until his hips rest flush against the back of my thighs. The sensation of him inside makes me moan, and I reach above me to grip the headboard as he pulls back and thrusts forward a little harder. Every muscle in my body begins to tighten in preparation of my release. I'm so lost in the moment that I don't notice him lower his face to my tits until his mouth is on one and his hand is cupping the other. He pinches one, and sucks, licks, and nips the other, bringing me closer to my orgasm. His hips move faster, forcing the waves of my release to crash down all around me until I'm crying out his name. Bringing my hands back to his shoulders, I coax him back up my body to kiss him deeply, and his hips stutter and jerk against me, thrusting deep inside me once more as he comes before collapsing on top of me.

We lie in silence, basking in what just happened, before I look down at him. "So," I say quietly. "Any regrets?"

Edward chuckles, raising his head and kissing my sternum. "Not a fucking one."

"Me either."

oOo

The rest of the weekend leaves Edward and me with very little time to talk or even see if it would be something we'd maybe like to do again. Actually, I know _I_ would like to, and from some of the glances he throws my way, I suspect he would too. Unfortunately, we're never alone long enough to find out. It seems like he looks for any excuse to be alone with me, though: asking to help prepare dinner, offering to carve the turkey while I make the gravy, assisting me with the cleanup and dishes—but we're constantly interrupted by someone. It's frustrating, and I think Edward would agree.

Sunday comes much faster than I'd like, and I'm packing my things when there's a knock on my bedroom door. "Your ride going to be here soon?" Edward asks, sounding somewhat forlorn.

"She will," I reply quietly, unable to look at him.

"Bella," he begins, stepping farther into my room and sitting on my bed next to my bag. "Look at me."

I do as he asks, but only after I'm able to keep the tremble from my chin. I try to tell myself it's ridiculous to feel this broken up inside after sleeping with him once, but it's a futile attempt; I've fallen for him, hard and fast.

"This weekend," he begins, taking my hands in his, "was unbelievable. I just wanted you to know that, and that I'd like to think if the circumstances were different, we might—"

My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall, and I stop him. "Please, don't. I don't think I can handle hearing…that." I pause and offer him a smile. "This weekend was just as amazing for me, you know." Inhaling deeply, I pull one of my hands free, cradle his face, and lean forward to rest my forehead to his. "No regrets," I whisper, kissing him softly before a car horn blares from outside my window.

After saying goodbye, I grab my bag and head for the stairs, leaving Edward on my bed and not looking back. Dad's already at work, having said goodbye to me that morning after breakfast, so I am able to keep moving.

The three-hour drive back is quiet—regardless of how often Jessica tries to get me to talk about my weekend. She's my best friend, and I would give anything to tell her about Edward, but I promised him I wouldn't tell a soul. When she asks what's up, I feed her some line about not feeling well, and she immediately drops her line of questioning.

"Do you want me to come up and stay with you for a bit?" Jess asks as she parks in front of my building. "I could make you some chicken soup."

Smiling, I shake my head. "Thanks, but I think I'll unpack and crash in front of the TV."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

I say goodnight to Jess, grab my things from the backseat of her car, and head inside. As I climb the stairs to the fourth floor, I can't help but think of my time with Edward. To know that my feelings for him weren't unrequited—even if there was no real future for us—was all that mattered.

After locking my door, I wander through my studio apartment and toss my dirty clothes in my hamper before dropping the duffle bag in my closet where it belongs. My stomach rumbles, so I head the twenty feet to my kitchen and look through the cupboards and fridge for something to eat. Finding nothing, I decide to head out and grab some take-out from the restaurant on the corner.

The sight that greets me as I pull open the door surprises me, and I wonder if I'm dreaming, because there's no way this is real…

"Edward?" I ask in disbelief.

He smiles and holds up a large brown paper bag. "So, I was sort of in the neighbourhood and figured you probably hadn't eaten since breakfast, so I got dinner for two and came right over."

"H-how did you get my address?" I stammer.

"Your dad's phone…" He pauses, furrowing his brow nervously. "That's not creepy, is it?"

I laugh. "Maybe a little, but I think I can overlook it." I take the food from him and nod him inside as I turn toward the kitchen and set it down. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what exactly are you doing here?"

"Honestly? Watching you walk away was the hardest thing I've ever had to do." He pauses, pulling me into his arms. "I know I'm not exactly in the best situation right now with my separation, but I need you to know that I've never felt this way about anyone or anything before now."

"It's probably just my youth," I quip, making Edward laugh. "It makes you feel young again."

"Regardless, I couldn't just give it up." He pushes my hair away from my face, his fingers lingering below my ear.

Even though I'm sure that now is not the time, I have to ask. "And what about my dad? If he finds out…"

Edward shakes his head and smiles warmly. "Why don't we worry about that when the time comes? Let's just enjoy right now."

I nod, and not another word is spoken between us as he lowers his lips to mine, carries me to my bed—our food forgotten for the moment—and makes love to me for the next two hours.

Yes, while there were several reasons that this was never meant to work, there are so many more that prove it can.

**AN2: Sooooo... What did you think? Please put your thoughts into a review! I will be continuing this... I'm not sure *when* exactly, as I have Do Not Cross, Olympus, this, and of course, Foalin' Around to work on next, but it WILL be continued!**

**See you soon!**


	2. Wrong Feels so Right

**Disclaimer: **_**Twilight**_** and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.**

**Rated for serious **_**(not really)**_** adult content and language.**

**WARNING:** _This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing._

**A/N: Welcome to the second chapter of my new short-story (plotted at 10 chapters + epilogue). As the warning states, there will be drama, but what this story will NOT contain is a pregnancy of any kind—surprise or otherwise. The drama will revolve around the May-December romance and how those closest to them will react upon finding out.**

Sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride :)

* * *

**Chapter 2 | Wrong Feels so Right**

_What the fuck are you thinking?_

It's a question I've been asking myself from the moment I got in my car and flew up the highway to Seattle.

Chasing after Bella.

When I left Tanya the other day and went to stay at Charlie's house in Forks, I never dreamed that anything would happen between Bella and me. Had I fantasized and dreamed about it more times than I can count? Yes. Yes, I have. What man my age doesn't, at some point or another, fantasize about being with a younger woman? I just never thought I would act on it.

Bella's very persuasive, though.

While "having too much to drink" is absolutely no excuse for what happened between us that first night, it's really all I have to go off of. Charlie and I had been up shooting the shit and talking about my failed marriage for hours, working our way through a few six-packs, before we decided to turn in. Charlie wasn't sure what time Bella was going to be getting into town the next day, but he said he didn't want to be exhausted and hung over when she did. As always, drinking that much knocked me out completely, and the beer had obviously helped to blur the line between my dreams and reality.

I'm not sure if it was the fact that I'd fallen asleep in Bella's bed or if some subconscious part of me sensed her presence after she'd crawled into bed next to me, but she was the star of my dream that night. When I woke up with my fingers buried in her pussy, I was a confusing combination of horrified and thrilled.

Horrified because I'd taken advantage of her while we both slept . . . but thrilled because she seemed more than responsive to every kiss and touch I'd lavished her with unbeknownst to either of us—unless I'd mistaken the passion behind her kiss and how incredibly wet she was as something else.

The minute the sleep-induced haze cleared, any positive feelings I'd experienced dissipated, and I was left with guilt.

The guilt was quickly forgotten the minute Charlie knocked on the door, and that was when my instinct of self-preservation kicked in . . . of course, it wavered the minute Bella turned around and flashed me her ass, and I started to wonder just how far it would have gone had she not fallen off the bed. No, I didn't just wonder, I found myself feeling a little disappointed.

I'm a sick bastard—I know this—and yet, a large part of me just doesn't fucking care.

I knew Charlie wouldn't respond well to finding the two of us in bed together, so I had to think fast to placate him enough to keep him on the other side of that door. Him thinking I was on the phone with work seemed to do the trick and bought Bella and me enough time to put some clothes on and sneak her into the house without her father knowing.

My brain might have been at war on what was right and wrong when it came to what just happened, but I did know that I should apologize to Bella for it; I couldn't imagine what had to be going through her head. She had every right to tell her father or press charges . . . so colour me surprised when she seemed almost flirty that afternoon.

It took everything in me to fight the urges that coursed through every damn cell in my body.

She helped me forget about the shitstorm my life had become as we hung out that afternoon. The menial task of grocery shopping followed by making pie crusts in her father's kitchen kept me from thinking about my soon-to-be ex-wife's betrayal. It was easy to fall into a comfortable conversation with Bella—it always was—and soon we were teasing each other like we often did when together. I never thought it would escalate to a food fight.

Seeing her with flour scattered in her hair and specks of it on her cheeks made something in the air shift for me, and as we chased each other around the kitchen, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her . . . but knew I couldn't. It would be wrong.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong, _was what I kept telling myself as I advanced on her like a lion on an unsuspecting gazelle.

When the doorbell rang, interrupting our silly behaviour, I was grateful—until I rounded the corner to see who it was.

Tanya showing up at Charlie's pissed me off. Hearing her accuse me of sleeping with Bella was laughable after what I'd learned of her extramarital affairs, but a part of me wanted to let her believe it—wanted it to be _true_, even. I didn't entertain her idea that Bella and I were together, but I didn't exactly squash them either. My nerves were rattled by the time I got rid of her, and when I returned to the kitchen, I found myself in Bella's arms as she did her best to comfort me.

And then I kissed her and it was like the planets aligned and other miraculous shit happened all at once. The rational part of my brain screamed at me to stop—told me it was beyond wrong—but I found it hard to believe when it _felt_ so goddamn right.

And then Charlie showed up.

Bella and I broke apart, short of breath and red-faced. I tried to apologize for stepping out of line, but she brushed it off as though it was nothing. Yes, she had confessed to wanting it to happen as much as I did, but that didn't make what happened okay . . .

Did it?

Thankfully, Charlie had no idea what he almost walked in on, which meant I got to keep my life another day. It terrifies me to the core to think about how he's going to handle hearing about Bella and me. We're not ready to tell him just yet, but he'll find out eventually; we just have to find the best way to break it to him, because somehow me telling him that I decided to take his advice to "find some hot young thing to help me forget about Tanya" probably isn't going to go over too well.

No. He'll shoot me where I stand the minute the words leave my mouth.

Originally, I'd planned not to venture any further into forbidden waters where Bella was concerned. I'd made up my mind, and was feeling almost okay with that decision . . . until she joined me in the living room and sat next to me. Looking into her eyes made my resolve crack, and her taking my hand brought the first brick tumbling down. But it wasn't until she said it didn't have to be about anything other than us giving into our urges that it all came crashing down around us.

I don't know if she'd intended for it to be just that one time—maybe she'd only wanted to know what it would be like to live out a fantasy she'd confessed to having about the two of us—but sleeping with her destroyed any possibility of me walking away from her. Ever.

She stirs in my arms, the light of the moon pouring through her apartment window and over us both. Even though it's almost midnight, I've been unable to sleep. Perhaps my adrenaline is running high after having more sex in these last few hours than I'd had in the last six months of my marriage.

Bella moans softly, exhaling a soft breath over my chest, and I smile. She looks so peaceful. So innocent.

That's when I recognize the source of my insomnia isn't adrenaline-based, but my guilt that is resurfacing. My gut wrenches and turns as I go over—yet again—all the reasons I shouldn't be here right now, and while I don't regret what's happened between Bella and myself in the least, that doesn't make it any less wrong.

Charlie—_her father_—is my best friend. I've been reminding myself of this fact a lot over the last few days . . . not that it's been helping. I've known the man since we were kids. I was his best man at his wedding, and was at the hospital to congratulate him and Renee the day Bella was born. I was a big part of her life—she called me _Uncle_ Edward up until seven years ago, for fuck's sake. I'd babysat her, protected her as though she was my own, and watched as she grew into a young woman.

And now, I'm sleeping with her.

Suppressing a groan, I run my free hand over my weary face. I'm fully aware that I'm twenty-two years older than her, but I'm more aware that if her father were ever to find out, not only would our friendship be over, but he'd likely hunt me down and hide my body somewhere it would never be found. He's a cop, and I have a feeling he knows how to make shit like that happen.

_Seriously, what the _fuck_ are you thinking? _I ask myself again.

"Mmmm," she moans softly, still fast asleep. "Edward." My whispered name on her lips is like a drug I can't get enough of, and suddenly, for every reason I can come up with that we shouldn't be together, there are two for why we should.

Con: Bella's father is my best friend.

Pros: She's equal parts sassy, funny, and infuriating while being extremely easy to talk to, and she makes me deliriously happy.

Con: Bella's father owns guns. Plural.

Pros: I've never felt this alive in all my life, and even with our age difference, Bella understands me more than any other woman ever did.

It's that reasoning, as well as all of her other little quirks and traits, that set my mind at ease like they had earlier that afternoon when I made the conscious decision to chase her back to the city.

Her fingers curl lightly over the skin of my chest, tickling me slightly and sending a tremor of desire through me. When her legs start to stir beneath the blankets, her knees pressing together slightly as her hips shift toward my thigh, I stifle a groan. If I was a betting man, I'd gamble everything on the odds that she's having another sex dream.

She moves her hips forward again, this time, the smooth skin of her pussy brushing against me, and my cock stirs. I roll my upper body toward her slightly and cup her face, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone as I bring my lips to hers. "Bella," I whisper softly against her mouth, kissing her once. "Baby, you're having a dream." I kiss her again, and her eyes flutter open.

The left side of her mouth twists up into a devilish smirk, and she brings her hand up to wrap around my wrist. "Am I?" she asks, arching an eyebrow teasingly.

"Weren't you?"

When Bella giggles, it does something to me—fills me with so much joy and excitement—and I find it more than a little infectious. Before I can do or say anything, Bella quickly straddles me, placing her hands flat on my chest as her pussy makes contact with my raging erection. "Mmm," she hums, leaning forward, her nose brushing the length of my neck until her lips ghost the shell of my ear. "Maybe it started out that way . . ." Her teeth catch my earlobe, causing a surge of desire to shoot through me until I ensnare her hips in my hands and pull her against me roughly, making her whimper. "But I could tell it was a dream."

"Oh yeah?" I question. "How so?"

She snickers, lifting an arm to tuck her hair behind her ear as she moves her face until it hovers over mine. There's an impish glint in her eyes when she says, "Well, given my experience over the last few hours, it was far too _good_ to be real." Teasing notes lace her words, but I pick up on some sort of challenge in them.

"Is that a fact?"

Nodding, Bella moves her hips against me, spreading the increasing wetness between her legs along my dick. "Yup," she whispers, popping the 'p'. "Care to prove me wrong?"

With a guttural growl, the fingers on my right hand curl into her hip while my left hand comes up to cradle her face, and I kiss her hard and deep, our tongues sliding languidly over one another as her hips continue to rock above me. Every nerve in my body is alive, currents of electricity flowing through my veins, and my desire to claim her as mine ignites.

I raise a leg beneath her to roll us over, but my Bella has other ideas, placing one of her hands on my chest and holding me down—okay, so she's not using a lot of strength, but I grasp the idea behind the gesture. I'm not completely dense—even though most of the blood in my body is rushing in an entirely different direction than toward my brain right now.

"God, Bella," I murmur against her plump lips, pulling her hips forward again. The friction of my cock sliding between her slick folds drives me wild, and my eyes roll back as I revel in the sensation.

Bella moans, swivelling her hips counter-clockwise before lifting them and sliding her hand from my chest and between her legs. Her fingertips brush the tip of my erection, causing it to pulse with need, and I can't take the anticipation anymore.

"I want you," I tell her gruffly.

"Mmm," she hums, kissing her way along my jaw before raising her head to look me in the eye. "You have me." Her hand surrounds my length, sliding over it with ease as she guides it toward her entrance. "I'm yours to do with what you please."

Before she can ease herself down onto me, I lift her slightly. "Condom," I whisper, my voice strained.

Bella tucks her hair behind her ear again and nods. "Okay. Yeah." She leans across me, her tit nearly grazing my nose, and reaches into her bedside table where she keeps what I kind of hope is an endless stash of prophylactics, because I don't want to leave this apartment unless we absolutely have to.

Breathing heavily, she scoots down my body, coming to rest on my thighs as she positions the condom and rolls it down over my length. Once it's in place, I sit up quickly, wrapping one arm around her and pulling her back toward me until we're aligned again. Our eyes lock as Bella slowly lowers herself onto me, and we both groan with satisfaction when we're joined once more.

_Home_. It's the only way I can describe how I feel when we're together, so how can it possibly be as wrong as I keep thinking it is? It doesn't even matter how we're together; just being in her presence is the most natural thing in the world. Like breathing.

I draw one of her perfect nipples into my mouth, flicking my tongue over it before grazing it with my teeth, and she mewls above me, her arms tightening around my shoulders to hold me in place. Her movements are slow and precise at first, using her legs to move up and down my length, and then she speeds up, her brow furrowing and her moans growing louder as she closes in on her orgasm. "Edward," she pants, resting her head on mine, and I lift my face from her breast to crush my lips to hers, swallowing every sound that breezes past them.

Her legs begin to tremble on either side of me, and I assume she's exhausted them, so I move to roll us over when she shakes her head. "Mmm . . . no," she mumbles, pulling her lips from mine. "Lie back."

Never one to say no to watching a beautiful woman ride me to climax, I do as she says. She adjusts her legs so she's kneeling and places her hands on my chest, lowering herself to kiss me softly while she finds her new rhythm. This new position has me going slightly deeper inside of her, and I can feel my orgasm building as each one of my muscles tightens and my toes curl. I'm so close, and the need to come becomes the only thing on my mind.

I wrap my hands around her hips again and begin guiding her hips a little faster and harder against me, the new depth and level of friction pushing me even closer to the edge. I can feel the walls of her pussy beginning to tighten around me, and I increase my efforts, now needing to feel _her_ come as much as I need my own release.

"Oh, god . . ." she moans. "Edward . . . I'm going to . . ."

Her ability to form a coherent sentence has been momentarily disabled, but, to be fair, so has mine. "Bella," I groan, lifting my hips off the bed slightly, meeting her thrust for thrust. "You feel . . . amazing . . ."

"You too." Her body begins to tremble above me, and I know she's struggling to hold her orgasm back. "_Soooo good_," she moans slowly, one of her hands wrapping around my wrist and pulling it from her hip.

I'm confused at first, but as she guides it up her body and to her tit, I understand what she wants. I palm her tit—_hard_—putting a little more focus on her hardened nipple as she continues to ride me. Her moans fill the room, and she covers my hand with hers, squeezing her breast in tandem with me as she calls out my name over and over and over until her body begins to quiver above me through her orgasm. She drags her free hand down my chest, curling her fingers until her nails scratch me lightly and leave red lines in their wake. The minute she reaches my stomach, I sit upright, moving my hand from her hip and into her hair as I kiss her almost desperately as I chase my own release.

Her hand is still sandwiched between us, so close to her pussy, and I crave to feel her come again as I do. "Touch yourself," I command softly, and Bella's hand inches lower until she's able to slip her fingers between her thighs. She continues to rock above me, and when I feel her fingertips brush my cock as it slides out of her, that's it. The surface of my skin prickles and my muscles tense, curling my fingers and toes as my orgasm rips through me.

Panting, Bella removes her hands from her body and collapses on my chest, her hair splaying across my sweat-slickened skin, and her laboured breaths causing goosebumps to rise up all over. My hand trails lazily up and down her back, and I can feel her heart pounding in time with mine as we lay here, still wrapped around each other for a few more minutes before I excuse myself to use the washroom.

I press a kiss to her forehead before she rolls over onto the other side of the bed, and I make my way through her small apartment and into the bathroom where I clean myself up before rejoining her. When she gets out of bed to do the same and grab a glass of water, I watch her walk away, marvelling in how beautiful and confident she is. After emerging from the bathroom, I watch her walk around her narrow kitchen from the bed, appreciating the way the moon highlights the womanly curves of her body.

"You're staring, Edward," she says, setting her glass on the counter.

I chuckle, my cheeks warming slightly at having been caught ogling her naked body. "Forgive me," I say, still unwilling to take my eyes off of her. "It's just . . . how can I not? You're stunning."

Laughing, Bella puts her glass in the sink and rushes through her studio apartment and hops into bed, her tits bouncing in a way that only a 20-year-old's can. "Well, when you put it that way . . ." She nestles into my side, pressing her naked body against mine as she yawns. "Are you ready to sleep yet?"

I'm definitely feeling like I could fall asleep now; my mind seems to have cleared up, and exhaustion is starting to set in. I nod. "Yeah. I think so."

"Good, because I have school tomorrow, and if I don't get a few more hours of sleep, I'm going to fall asleep in class." She hitches her right leg over my thighs to get closer, and I sigh in contentment. "Do you have to work?"

"No," I reply. "I took a few days off so that I could avoid . . ." I pause before I bring Tanya up; something tells me that bringing up your soon-to-be ex-wife while in bed with the beautiful—and very naked—twenty-one-year-old co-ed you've started sleeping with has the potential to turn awkward.

Bella catches on, though; she's always been pretty astute. "Ah, right." She looks up at me. "So, what are you going to do?"

I hadn't really thought about it, to be quite honest, and I tell her as much. "I'm not sure. Maybe drive around the city, go for coffee?"

"Well—and don't take this the wrong way—but why don't I leave you a key to the apartment?" Her eyes widen, almost like she's afraid of what she just said. "N-not to, you know, like, move in or anything, but that way, you can come back here if you want, instead of risking a run-in with the ice-bitch at your condo."

She's so fucking adorable when she's rambling.

"If you want. Obviously," she continues before pressing her face into her hand. "_Shit._"

"Hey," I say, coaxing her face from her hand. "I would appreciate that, actually . . . as long as you don't mind. I don't want to impose on your life in any way."

She smiles, her entire face lighting up. "It's not an imposition at all. I, um . . . well, while I don't know exactly what _this_"—she gestures between the two of us with her hand—"is, I know I want to explore it a little more."

Laughing, I press my lips to her forehead. "You don't think we've explored each other enough for a few days?"

"While that wasn't exactly what I meant," she says, rolling her eyes, "I'm going to say no. There's so much more that we need to figure out . . . you know, if this is something you deem worth pursuing."

"Bella . . ." My voice is low and soft. "If I didn't feel this was worth pursuing, would I have broken the speed limit trying to get to you after you left Forks this afternoon?"

Her cheeks turn pink, and she bites her bottom lip lightly. "I suppose not."

Glancing over her shoulder, I see that we're closing in on two in the morning, and I pull the blanket up over us both. "Now, let's get some sleep and just agree to let this all unfold naturally, okay?"

Bella pecks my cheek before placing her head on my shoulder and rubbing her hand over my chest lightly. "Deal. Goodnight, Edward."

Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I inhale the sweet smell of her shampoo and let my eyes fall closed. "Goodnight, baby."

* * *

**A/N2: So, there's chapter two. What did everyone think of Edward's thoughts on the situation? Poor guy's brain must hurt ;)**

**Chapter 3 is half-finished, and I hope to wrap it up in a day or two so I can go on with a weekly posting schedule. I was going to wait to post, but I couldn't. It was beta'd and just sitting there, staring at me impatiently . . . okay, so not really, but I was anxious to share it with you all! Like I said, I hope to post weekly, but this will depend on my ability to write this and Rm w/a Vu's final chapters side-by-side. So, bear with me, because I'm excited about this one :)**

**And yes, Foalin' Around is still in the works, but that one I want to have at least 5+ chapters finished before posting (I've got three ;)). It's coming along though, and I'm stoked!**

**What did you all think of this chapter? Are you curious to see how they handle this? Leave me your thoughts. Reviews will get teasers in return :)**


	3. Listen to Your Heart

**Disclaimer: **_**Twilight**_** and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.**

**Rated for serious **_**(not really)**_** adult content and language.**

**WARNING:** _This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing._

**A/N: Well, I'd hoped to update last week after I got this back from my lovely betas, but that didn't happen due to the fact that my week was CRAZY. This also explains why I didn't get around to the teasers. This is my first day off in almost two weeks :(**

**Anyway, here's the chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! Writing a Bella who's a little more sexually confident has been a blast ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 3 | Listen to Your Heart**

It's the most fitful sleep I've ever had—even if it was a few hours shorter than what I'm normally used to—and it isn't until an incessant buzzing on the bedside table wakes me up that I realize why.

Edward's here. In my bed. Holding me in his arms. The events of the night before come flooding back, and I smile, turning my face into his chest and inhaling his musky scent. It had felt like a dream come true. Like something out of a modern-day fairytale: After one night together, feelings had bloomed between two people, and there was no fighting it. I hated walking away from him, but I knew I had to because there was no way that society—let alone our close-knit circle of friends and family—would ever accept us being together. It didn't matter that he was all I seemed to want; I knew I had to walk away.

I know that the two of us being together should feel wrong, but the more distance I had put between us, the more it hurt. So, if anything felt wrong, it was being apart . . . even if us embarking on this adventure together might seem . . . unconventional to some people. My dad, for example.

Edward's phone vibrates again, and he growls, his chest vibrating against my face. "Good _god_. Who the hell is calling me this damn early?"

I giggle, lifting my face and resting my chin on his shoulder as he reaches for his phone. "You're kind of a bear in the mornings, aren't you?"

Running his hand over his weary face, he looks down at me and smiles. "Sorry. I just hate it when I'm woken up from such a deep sleep."

"Noted," I affirm with a nod before sitting up. His eyes trail down my body, stopping on the exposed skin of my upper body as I stretch my arms over my head. "I'm going to go and hop in the shower before I have to head to class." I hold out my hand toward him, smiling coyly. "Care to join me?"

Edward chuckles, the outer corners of his electric green eyes creasing. "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep up with your sexual appetites," he confesses, placing his hand on my bare knee instead of in my hand, his thumb moving back and forth over the smooth skin.

Letting my mouth fall open in mock-insult, I stare at him. "Hey, I didn't say we were going to do it . . . I mean, I hadn't entirely ruled it out, either . . . I was only inviting you for some clean and _wholesome_ shower-time fun."

"Hmmm," he hums softly, the sound moving like a gentle vibration under my skin. "Something tells me that any activity that involves you and me naked together is going to result in anything _but_ clean and wholesome, Isabella."

"Fair enough," I concur, "but I really do need to shower and head to class."

Edward nods. "Go ahead and start without me. I'll join you as soon as I check my messages."

My cheeks hurt from my incredibly wide smile, and I lean forward to kiss him before hopping off the bed and heading for the bathroom. "Okay!"

I leave the bathroom door open a crack before I turn the shower on to let the water warm, and I brush my teeth before Edward joins me, because, really, morning breath is the worst. After my teeth are clean, I hop behind the shower curtain and wet my hair before lathering it up with shampoo. I've just begun to rinse the suds from my hair when I hear the bathroom door creak and the latch click into place. I peek around the curtain and smile when I see Edward at the sink with his black leather toiletries bag, digging through it and producing his toothbrush, toothpaste, and shaving supplies.

"Leave the scruff," I speak up, causing him to look in my direction and furrow his brow. "I like it."

Edward chuckles, but he puts his razor and shaving cream back in the bag. "You got some kind of fetish I should know about?"

My laugh bounces off the tile walls of my bathroom, and my cheeks warm. "Not exactly . . . I just like the way it feels against my skin."

Edward brushes his teeth quickly and then makes his way over to join me in the shower. I can't seem to take my eyes off him as he walks across the tile floor completely naked. He's not only good-looking with a physique most men my age would desire, but his confidence only adds to his sex appeal.

When he pulls the curtain back to step inside, a blast of cool air hits my skin, making it prickle with goosebumps. I take a step back so Edward can stand beneath the showerhead and run conditioner through the length of my hair. I watch, entranced, as rivulets of water stream down his body, over every muscle in his back and toward his extremely biteable ass, and I start to think that maybe this shower won't be as clean and wholesome as I'd originally intended.

Edward turns around and catches me ogling him. "Now who's staring?"

Channelling my inner-parrot, I smirk. "How can I not? You're stunning."

Edward advances on me, making me back up until I'm pressed against the cold shower wall. My breathing picks up, and I'm lost in his intense green eyes as they bore into mine. Speechless, I silently will him to kiss me. He advances slowly, and my breath hitches, my tongue peeking out to wet my lips, but instead of kissing me, he leans down and grabs the shampoo from the ledge of the tub and takes a step back.

A cocky smirk graces his stupid lips, and I glare, pushing myself away from the wall and hoping my weak knees don't betray me. Thankfully, they don't, and I decide that two can play this game.

Turning around, I grab my coconut-scented body wash and squeeze some onto my shower loofah. I work it into a thick, sudsy lather and lift my leg, placing my foot flat on the edge of the tub and leaning over slightly to give him a decent view of my ass as I start to wash—what can I say? I'm a bit of a multi-tasker.

Edward's groan makes me smile, and I turn my head to see him eying my ass. "See something you like?"

He steps toward me, stopping when his thighs meet my ass, and I can feel his erection pressed between us. "You could say that," he growls, splaying his hands flat over my water-slickened back and leaning forward. His hands move up my body, over my shoulders, and down my arms until he works the loofah free from my grasp.

I hold back a moan when he takes over washing my body, turning me around when he deems my back "clean enough to eat off of." I'm surprised I didn't melt into a puddle right then and there, to be quite honest, because I'm suddenly inundated with images of Edward eating off my body like some kind of sexy smorgasbord.

The loofah moves along the skin of my shoulders and neck before travelling down over my sternum, but the way Edward's staring at me tells me he's not really paying too much attention to detail, and my assumptions are confirmed the minute he drops the loofah from his hands and starts using his hands to "wash" my breasts. His hands glide with ease thanks to the water and body wash covering my body, and I moan when he rolls my nipples between his fingers.

I'm excited about the idea of shower sex. I've always been a fan of it, and it's been way too fucking long since I've had it. One more tweak of his fingers, and I throw myself at him, stepping up onto my toes and wrapping my arms around his neck as I press my lips to his.

"You win," I murmur against his ravenous lips, and he chuckles, pulling his hands from my tits and letting them fall to my ass.

"As long as you recognize that," he replies playfully before nibbling on my bottom lip.

I drop my hands to his waist and begin to snake them between us before wrapping one hand around his cock. He groans into my mouth as I stroke him a couple times, and then he pulls away, looking conflicted as he holds me by my biceps, keeping me at arm's length.

"We don't . . . have a condom . . ." he pants, staggering his words. "We should wait."

The right side of my mouth quirks up, and I shrug. "We don't need to have sex to satisfy each other, you know. Or, has it been too long since you've been creative?" I tease, pumping him to the hilt once more.

"Jesus, Bella," he mutters, his fingernails lightly biting into the skin of my upper arms as I continue to work my hand over his length.

I alternate the pressure of my hand as I slide it up and down, rotating my wrist upon every pass of his tip. My lips curl up into a satisfied smile as I watch his eyes close and his eyebrows furrow. He's trying to control the movement of his hips, letting me take the lead, but he fails every so often, thrusting with purpose into my palm. It doesn't take too long before he comes against my hand and belly with a grunt, and the water falling from the shower head quickly washes all evidence of his release away.

Quite content to end our shower on this note, I swap places with Edward so I can wash the conditioner out of my hair and the soap residue from my back while he washes his own body. He quickly lathers up his chest, legs and back, and I've just finished rinsing the last of the conditioner from my long hair when he steps forward, forcing me behind the spray of water and against the other shower wall. With the water raining down on his back, his lips latch onto my neck while his right hand palms my tit much like I'd instructed him the night before, and his left hand grabs my right leg and lifts it. My foot sits on the edge of the tub, and he coaxes me to spread it wider with the back of his hand before he massages his way up my inner thigh and strokes my pussy with his index and middle fingers.

"Oh, shit," I moan, weaving my fingers into his hair and holding his mouth against my neck where he's busy kissing, licking, and nibbling. Both of my legs begin to quiver as his fingers move with intent and experience, swirling around my clit with just the right pressure before gliding back and circling his destination. At an agonizingly slow pace, he eases them into me.

"Oh, god, Edward," I pant toward the ceiling. My toes curl and my arms tingle before going numb as he plunges his long fingers in and out of me.

Edward raises his face from the crook of my neck and pulls my earlobe into his mouth for a second. "Come for me, Bella." His gruff request makes my stomach quiver and tighten as he works me right to the brink of release before his fingers curl toward my lower abdomen and push me over.

"Yes . . ." I whimper, feeling every muscle in my pussy contract around Edward's dextrous fingers. "Just like that . . . yes . . . _yes_ . . . Yes!"

As I come down from the high of my orgasm, Edward eases my leg from the edge of the tub and kisses me passionately. My brain is still muddled as I try to wade through the fog of ecstasy, but I sense the gratitude behind his kiss, and I return it tenfold.

When the water starts to run cold, shocking us both, I hop out of the shower and grab my towel while Edward still has to quickly rinse off. Poor bastard. I get his towel ready and hand it to him the second he pulls the shower curtain back, and he wraps it around his waist before following me back out into the apartment.

While I sift through my closet, Edward digs through the small duffle bag he'd packed when leaving Tanya, grumbling as he goes through shirt after shirt.

"There's a laundry room down the hall," I suggest. "Or there's a Laundromat around the corner. I prefer the Laundromat, though, because I don't trust the creepy guy next door enough to leave my laundry alone." I wish I could say I was kidding, but I've had several bra and panty sets go missing, and the dude likes to leer.

After quickly dressing, Edward heads to the kitchen while I stuff my books into my backpack, and just as I'm zipping it up, my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I pick it up to see it's Jess, so I answer it, keeping my voice down in hopes that Edward won't think I'm talking to him and try to respond. "Hey, Jess."

"Hi!" she replies happily. "How are you feeling?"

I'm confused for a brief moment until I remember I told her I wasn't feeling well to keep the true reason for my sullen behaviour from her. "Oh, much better. Totally slept it off."

"Oh, good! You want me to come pick you u—"

"Bella?" Edward calls from the kitchen, making my body stiffen in fear of us being found out by my best friend. "You don't have much for breakfast food—did you want some toast?"

I pray she hasn't heard him—that he wasn't as loud as I thought he was—but I'm just not that damn lucky, and I don't get a chance to react before I hear Jessica in my ear. "Who . . . _the fuck _. . . is that?" My heart begins to pound rapidly, and my eyes widen as I try to think fast. "Isabella Swan!" she squeals into my ear. "Do you have a man in your apartment?"

"Y-yes?"

"Oh my god! Tell me everything!"

There's no way I can tell her everything, so I try to get rid of her instead. "Sorry, Jess. I gotta go. I'll see you in about thirty?"

"Bella . . . I'm your best fr—"

"Okay," I sing into the phone, pulling it from my ear slowly. "See you soon!" And I hang up before she gets the chance to ask again. I know I'm not going to escape her interrogation forever, but I've at least bought myself thirty minutes to figure out a way to stretch the truth and omit a few facts.

When I walk the twenty feet to my kitchen, I eye Edward. "Well, I've got to think of something to tell Jessica now," I announce, flopping into one of the stools at the island counter separating my kitchen from my living room. Edward looks confused, so I hold up my phone. "She called and heard you talking about breakfast food."

"_Fuck,"_ he mumbles, running his hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were even on the phone."

I shake my head. "It's okay. I don't know what I'll tell her, but I don't think she'll recognize your voice or anything." I lean on the counter and peer over at what he's doing. "Whatcha got going on over there, handsome?" I ask.

Edward laughs, lifting a plate with two pieces of peanut butter covered toast. "Breakfast. I'd hoped to do a little more, but all you had was bread and a cupboard full of ramen noodles. You really should go grocery shopping."

"Are you looking down on my choice of food?" I tease, and Edward challenges right back.

"Ramen noodles are not _food_, Bella. They offer absolutely no nutritional value."

I shrug. "And yet, I have this rockin' hot bod."

Edward laughs again. "Touché," he replies, handing me a cup of coffee and then joining me to eat our breakfast, parking his hand on my thigh and leaving it there for the duration of our meal. It invites a flurry of warmth and fluttery feelings in my belly that makes me smile.

By the time we finish eating, it's time for me to head downstairs to meet Jess. I grab the spare set of keys for my apartment off my key ring and hand them to Edward. "This one will get you in the main door," I say, holding the heavier brass-coloured key. "And this one will lock up the apartment."

"Got it," he says, pocketing the keys and then pulling me into his arms. "Have a good day."

Winding my arms around his neck, I hum. "How can I not when I know you're going to be here when I get back?" I press my lips to his before peeling myself from his arms and slinging my bag over my shoulder as I rush down the hall and fly down the stairs to meet Jessica outside.

She's already parked right outside my apartment building, so I run across the sidewalk and slide into the passenger seat. I notice her looking out my window as I buckle up, and I poke her arm. "What are you looking for?" I ask.

"Your booty call! He isn't going to walk out with you?" she demands. "Come on! I want to see what he looks like! He sounded hot!"

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from her. "You're hopeless," I tell her, but before I can say anything else, I hear her gasp, and it startles me. "Jesus, calm down! What is it now?"

Jess reaches across the car and sweeps my hair off my shoulder. "You, Isabella Marie Swan, have a hickey on your neck."

My entire face screws up in disbelief as I pull the visor down to open the mirror. "Oh, I do not," I mumble, but as I turn my neck, I see what she sees: a small bruise-like mark on the apex of my neck. Then I remember his attention on my neck in the shower, and shake my head. "Son of a bitch," I whisper, trying to keep myself from smiling as I run my fingertips over it. Honestly, it's no bigger than a dime, but it's still darker than my pale skin. Thank god I chose to wear my hair down!

Jessica giggles beside me, putting her car into drive. "Your booty call gave you a hickey. What is he, fifteen?"

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, because he is most definitely _not _fifteen. "I guess we just got a little carried away," I tell her, but all the while, I'm debating whether or not I should get him back . . . If I do, it'll have to be in a place that no one will see, because I'd hate to give Tanya or anyone else a reason to jump to conclusions.

While Jessica drives, I grab my phone and take a picture of my neck so I can send it to Edward with the caption: _"What the hell is this?"_

Only a few seconds go by before my phone vibrates in my hand, and I look down at the screen.

_I'd say sorry—because I really am—but, honestly, you bring out a part of me I didn't know existed anymore._

Stifling a giggle, I tap out another response.

_Is this part of you a teenager?_

_Well, I wouldn't go that far, but you definitely bring out the younger, much more primal side of me . . . not that this is me complaining._

To hear that I've had this affect on Edward makes me blush. I love that I've brought him out of his shell a little more, but I'm also a little pissed that Tanya seemed to have snuffed out who he used to be in all the years they were married.

I type out another quick text, telling Edward I might have to pay him back, and his final response before I arrive at school is: _"I look forward to seeing what your devious mind comes up with."_

"Okay," Jess says, putting the car into park. "You need to tell me about this guy. You've been smiling like the Cheshire cat over there the entire ride, and I'd be willing to bet it's because you've been sexting your booty call."

"You can stop calling him that," I tell her with a laugh. "And I'm not ready to talk about him. Things are . . . complicated and new, and we're not quite ready to go public until we've figured everything out."

"Is it Felix?" she asks. "He still totally wants you, you know."

Shaking my head, I unbuckle my seatbelt, open my door, and shift to step out. "You're delusional. Felix is with Heidi and they're beyond happy. Besides, things between us never would have worked out."

"You said he was the best lay you'd ever had," Jessica reminds me, and she's not wrong—or up until last week she wouldn't have been wrong. Now, though? Now she's dead wrong, because Edward has upped the ante in that department.

Jessica must see evidence of my thoughts on my face, because her lips curl up into the goofiest smile I've ever seen in my life. "Could that devilish glint in your big brown eyes mean that you've found, dare I say it, _better_?" She squeals, drawing the attention of a few students passing by. "Well, now you _have_ to tell me everything!"

"We're going to be late," I tell her, getting out of her car and closing the door behind me.

She's not far behind, locking the doors and speed-walking to catch up. "Okay, you don't have to tell me who he is, just . . . how did you meet?"

"We've known each other for as long as I can remember," I tell her honestly, and I hope she ends her line of questioning there. She doesn't, because, quite frankly, I'm just not that fortunate.

"So, like, you used to play together as kids?"

"Um," I hum, biting the inside of my cheek. _Technically_, she's not wrong. I mean, Edward wasn't a kid, but he used to indulge me in the occasional board game or play tag with me after nagging him relentlessly. "I suppose you could say that. Look, as much as I want to tell you about him, Jess—and believe me, I do, because I've never felt like this before—I need to figure things out with him first. Can you accept that?"

Jess smiles, wrapping an arm around me as we walk. "Of course, bestie. I'm just psyched for you. You seem happy."

A warm blush fills my face, and I laugh lightly. "I am."

Truthfully, I would love nothing more than to tell Jessica about Edward. She won't judge me—at least I don't think she will—but I'm scared that if I speak aloud about what Edward and I have going on that it might somehow get back to my father. And there's no way he's going to react well. We need to be extra careful when telling him . . . should we decide that this is serious enough to do so.

The day seems to drag on forever, and I blame my damn anticipation of seeing Edward again. I try to drown myself in the subject material of each of my classes, but it's not long before my mind starts to drift back to my apartment, where I imagine Edward is just getting back from doing his laundry.

I try to keep myself from zoning out in the car as Jess drives me back to my place. I do all right, for the most part. I mean, she only has to repeat herself three times in the forty-minute drive through rush hour traffic. I'd chalk that up as a win.

Before I get out of the car, Jess turns to me and smirks. "Is he coming over again? Because if he is, I won't call you later . . . you know, give the two of you a little privacy."

I laugh. "Yes, he'll be over tonight. I actually don't know if he left the apartment at all." I open my door and turn my head in her direction. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Definitely." She nods affirmatively. "Have fun," she sings after me as I step out onto the sidewalk and wave.

Even though I'm not sure if Edward's even in my apartment, I race up the four flights of stairs and walk briskly down the hall toward my door. I slip the key into the lock and disengage it, and the smell that greets me makes my mouth water. Edward's cooking, and it smells like marinara sauce . . . possibly from scratch.

"Hey," I say once I step through the door and spot him in the kitchen, standing at the stove and stirring something in a pot. I drop my bookbag by the front door and join him, wrapping my arms around his waist and peeking around him. I was right; he is making a marinara sauce, and in another pot, it looks like he's cooking some pasta.

"Now I know I didn't have any of the necessary ingredients to put this meal together . . . unless those are my ramen noodles in that pot there," I quip, squeezing his sides in an attempt to tickle him.

He laughs, shaking his head. "They are most definitely _not _ramen noodles. And I had a bit of free time after doing my laundry, so I figured I'd make a trip to the grocery store and pick up a few things."

Curious, I remove my body from his and turn to open the fridge. The sight I'm met with shocks the hell out of me: he's completely stocked my fridge. I've got various meats in the freezer—all individually wrapped into portions—and my fridge is stocked with various condiments and produce.

"You didn't have to do that," I say, still a little stunned. "I mean, _thank you_, but it really wasn't necessary."

"Bella, I couldn't, in good conscience, let you live off those damn noodles." He turns off the stove and grabs the pot of noodles, taking them two feet to the sink and draining the water. "Do you mind grabbing plates?" he asks. "Dinner's ready."

Edward plates our meal—spaghetti with a homemade meat sauce—and we sit side by side at the counter while we talk about our day. As he goes on about his afternoon, I listen raptly, taking in every word and imagining being able to end every day like this. While I know I have feelings for him—feelings that seem to have grown over the last few days—I begin to wonder what kind of future we could have.

Will those closest to us understand?

Better yet, will it matter to either of us if they don't?

* * *

**A/N2: So, what did you think? How do you think Charlie will react once he **_**does**_** find out? **

**I haven't started ch4 yet as I'm only halfway through RwaV's next chapter (busy couple weeks, remember?), but I hope to be able to finish RwaV's chapter tonight/tomorrow and then I'll get on ch4 of FmF! These two are so much fun giggles**

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated—but not mandatory ;)—and I am going to try my damndest to get those teasers out this week!**

**Until next time…**

**xoxo**


	4. Dirty Little Secret

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.**

**Rated for serious (not really) adult content and language.**

**WARNING: This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing.**

**A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying this story so far! I'm having fun with it!**

* * *

**Chapter 4 | Dirty Little Secret**

Returning to work was inevitable. While I'd hoped to have the week off before being forced back into the fray, an emergency call from my assistant on Tuesday night changed that. She told me that one of my clients isn't happy with the latest blueprints I'd sent them last week before my impromptu trip to Forks.

Since I hadn't packed anything to wear into the office when I left Seattle, I knew a stop at the condo couldn't be avoided. The very thought of running into Tanya makes my stomach twist with nausea and my blood run hot with rage. Our marriage has been troubled for years, and I had already been in talks with my lawyer—and brother-in-law—about getting started on the proceedings. It didn't matter that Tanya would wind up gaining half of my estate; it was a price I was willing to pay to get her out of my life.

We'd discussed separating at length, and Tanya seemed completely on board . . . until I'd heard a rumour that she'd been cheating on me for the last year-and-a-half. In order to keep her from finding out, I'd used my personal account to hire a private detective. Never in my life did I ever think I would be _that_ guy—the guy who hires a PI to follow his wife into the seedier neighbourhoods of Seattle where she meets a few times a week with several different men for an hour or two at a time.

The pictures made me see red, and they sent Tanya into a blind panic. She knew that because she'd been caught having an affair—or technically, several—that she wasn't going to see a single cent of my money. This worried her because she'd gotten used to living a certain way: going to charity galas in expensive gowns and jewellery, going on week-long trips to Palm Springs with her girlfriends and spending hundreds—sometimes thousands—of dollars, and let's not forget the new black Porsche she bought a few months back that's in my name.

This is why she's suddenly changed her tune about the divorce.

She'd tried to explain it away as the men just being old friends who were going through a rough time, but the pictures of her cozying up to them before getting into her car extinguished that argument before it had a chance to ignite.

When I pull my Lexus into its spot, my stomach lurches at the sight of Tanya's car in its place. While I try to tell myself that she's probably left it here because it's not her property, I know better than that. I know that confronting her can't be avoided any longer. While seeing her won't change my mind on any of it, I'd really rather avoid her until I've got the divorce papers drawn up—which I should be sure to do this afternoon if Jasper is available.

Steeling my resolve, I lock up the Lexus and head for the elevator. I can't prolong the inevitable no matter how much I'd like to.

The elevator feels like it's moving far too slowly, and the walk down the hall to my door feels even longer. I feel how I imagine a man headed for execution feels, and when I finally reach my door, I pause, taking one more deep breath before opening it and tripping over several suitcases in my way.

"What the hell?" I bellow after clipping my shin on the pointed corner of one of the bags.

Tanya rushes down the hall, her hands in her hair as if she's in the middle of getting ready to head out for the day—to where, I have no idea; it's not like she goes to work this early. She appears shocked to see me, though I'm not entirely sure why. Who else would she be expecting to be walking through the front door to _my_ condo?

Her hands fall to her side, letting her blonde hair cascade around her shoulders in loose waves, and she takes a few tentative steps toward me. "Edward," she exhales softly. "You're here."

A humorous laugh escapes me, and I shake my head, slamming the front door behind me as I step around her things. "Yeah, you too, I see. Figured you'd be gone by now."

"I, um . . . well, I was leaving today." Her eyes catch mine, hope glimmering in them faintly. "Unless . . .?"

"Do you need help with your bags? I'd be happy to put them in the hall for you," I tell her, walking past her to the kitchen and ignoring the pleading tone of her voice. I open the fridge to find it almost bare; makes sense considering I'm the one who does the shopping around here. I'm not really hungry anyway, having just shared a big breakfast with Bella at her apartment before she went to school.

"Where've you been?" Tanya asks, breaking the silence as I shut the fridge door hard enough to make the bottles in the door rattle.

I turn on her, ready to tear into her. Instead of finding her looking at me with hope, I find her with her arms crossed in front of her and her eyes narrowed. This is the Tanya I've been living with this last year. "Excuse me?" I demand.

"I called Charlie's. You weren't there, and you didn't answer your cell when I called." She pauses briefly, her eyes burning into mine.

I stare at her for a minute, completely dumbstruck. "I didn't answer any of your calls because I have nothing to say to you at this time. As for where I was . . . that's really none of your concern anymore, now is it?"

Her eyes widen, and I think I see realization dawn in them before she speaks. "You were with someone," she assumes, jumping to conclusions that aren't wrong.

There are several reasons I'm not quite ready to tell Tanya about Bella. I mean, I would love to rub her nose in the fact that I've never felt this way about anyone in my life, because I know that would get under her Botox-riddled skin, but I can't. Not until Bella and I have figured out what exactly our relationship is, and definitely not until after we've talked to Charlie. He'll be the first to learn about us.

"Tanya, you have no idea what you're talking about," I reply, sloughing her accurate assumptions off as nonsense without flat-out lying to her.

"I'm still your wife, Edward, and I can tell you've been with another woman."

"My _wife_?" This time, my laugh isn't dry. I actually find genuine humour in what she's said. "You sure have a funny way of honouring your marriage vows." Shaking my head, I walk past her, my arm brushing hers as I make my way down the hall. "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out. I'll be meeting with my lawyer this afternoon to get started on the divorce proceedings. Expect to be handing over the keys to the Porsche, and perhaps start gearing up to use public transit." It makes me smile when I notice her cringe at the mere suggestion of public transportation.

"Edward, be reasonable," she starts to plead, clearly getting ready to make some sort of deal. "Surely we can work something out."

Turning around and taking a couple of backward steps away, I shrug. "The pre-nup was pretty straightforward," I tell her. "Not my problem. Goodbye, Tanya. Leave the keys to the condo on the counter. I'll be having the locks changed today."

With an exasperated huff, Tanya tosses her keys on the kitchen counter and picks up her bags. "This isn't over, Edward."

"Maybe not yet," I agree. "But I'll see what I can do to speed up the process."

As strange as it seems, the sound of her slamming the door behind her is music to my ears. After stripping out of my clothes and grabbing a suit and tie from my closet, I freeze before tossing everything on the king-sized bed that I once shared with Tanya. While I don't think she was stupid enough to bring men back to our home, I can't be sure. And, even if she hadn't, I still didn't want to sleep in it—alone or with Bella—knowing Tanya had once occupied it. I pull on my suit quickly and grab my phone off my dresser, flipping through my contacts and finding the one person I knew would love to help me out.

"Visions Interior Design. Alice Cullen-Whitlock, speaking."

"Ali," I greet happily, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder while I knot my tie.

"Hey, big bro," she responds. "How was your Thanksgiving in Forks? You sound good, like maybe it was just what you needed."

Unable to contain my smile, I nod; my sister has always been somewhat of a clairvoyant, and is able to read a person's mood regardless of whether or not they're in the same room. "It was good, and, you're right, just what I needed."

"Is the wench gone?"

I chuckle, tightening the double Windsor knot around my neck. "Just. That's actually why I'm calling. You busy today?"

"Um, not really. I have a quick meeting with a potential client in about fifteen minutes, and then the rest of my day was going to be spent in the office surfing the 'net and screwing around on Facebook," she replies candidly. "Why?"

"I'm in need of your assistance. I'd like to redo the condo. Paint, furniture, everything. I want to basically eliminate all traces of Tanya from my home."

"Deadline?" Alice asks. I assume she's trying to fit the project in amongst whatever else is on her plate at work.

"I'd like the bedroom done by Friday, if possible," I explain, and I know the minute it leaves my mouth that it will likely raise questions with her, so I quickly add more in hopes of drawing her focus away from it. "But the rest of the house can be done gradually over the next few weeks unless you can fit it in sooner."

I can practically hear the smile behind her words. "The bedroom, huh? Does someone plan to have company over?"

"Yes or no, Alice?" I inquire with a laugh.

"Hmmm," she hums contemplatively. "Your lack of confirmation or denial only makes me think I'm right, big brother. Who is she?"

Alice and I have always been able to be open and honest with one another over the years, but this is one thing I'm not ready to share with her. Alice loves Bella . . . like a niece, so it isn't that I think she'll be against it—in fact, I'm sure she'll be more than supportive—but Bella and I have agreed to keep what we have a secret until we're ready to tell Charlie. He's the one that our relationship will affect the most, so it's only right that he be the first to hear of it.

When we're ready and have him as far away from his arsenal as possible.

"I'm not ready to talk about my personal life right now, Ali. I'm late for a meeting."

Exasperated, Alice sighs. "Fine. I'll stop by after my meeting and see what I can do. I won't be able to do the full remodel of the bedroom today, but I should be able to make a plan and have it done for Friday."

"Perfect. I'll leave a key with the doorman, so feel free to come and go as you please," I tell her.

"You won't be there?" she asks, confusion lacing her tone.

"I was going to stay with B—" I'm barely able to stop myself before I say too much, but I do, and I can practically hear the wheels in Alice's mind shifting into gear as she tries to finish my sentence. "With a friend."

"Riiiight," she says, clearly not buying the "friend" cover story. "Well, I'll call you if I have any questions if you can tear yourself away from your . . . _friend_ long enough to indulge me."

Her playful teasing is not lost on me, and I laugh. "Thanks. I'll be sure to keep my phone close."

After saying goodbye to my sister, I make a quick call to the building's superintendent and request to have the locks changed. I explain my situation, and he agrees to come up and do this as soon as possible, telling me he'll leave the new keys with the doorman for me to pick up later.

With those few things squared away, I head into the office to hopefully figure out the problem with the blueprints in an attempt to salvage this business deal. When I arrive, I have about fifteen minutes before my clients are to arrive, so I send Bella a quick text.

_Hope your morning's going well. _

I set my phone down on my desk and head out to the main office for a cup of coffee. When I return, I see she's messaged me back—even though she should be in class.

_It's all right. I'm trying not to fall asleep in my psych class._

_Tired? Maybe I should stay at the condo tonight . . ._

I fire up my computer while I wait for her response, and as soon as the monitor lights up, so does the screen of my phone.

_What?! No way . . . I mean, unless you want to. I'm just bored out of my damn mind in this class. Blah._

_Well, I stopped by the condo this morning before heading to the office, and she's gone, so if you need space to rest or study, I don't mind._

Except that I do. For some reason, I hate the idea of being away from her. It's been a week since we'd originally gotten together, and I can't imagine spending a moment apart from her. Some might consider this behaviour dependent and on par with someone who might be on the rebound—and they'd probably be right. However, if I'm being honest with myself, these feelings I'm having would indicate that this is so much more than that. I genuinely care about Bella, and there's nowhere else that I would rather be than in her arms.

_I'd love it if you came over. I've enjoyed spending time with you, and this way you're safe from the ice-bitch dropping in unannounced ;)_

I laugh, drawing attention from my assistant and a few coworkers outside my office as I reply. I'm not sure what prompted Bella to start calling Tanya the "ice-bitch," but it's oddly fitting and also quite funny. I'll have to be sure to ask her later.

_I had the locks changed this morning, so that would be an unlikely situation, anyway. I'll be finished up here by two, and then I have to stop by and talk to Jasper about the divorce. I could be at your place by four._

Another minute goes by before my phone vibrates in my hand, and I can't help my smile from widening until my cheeks hurt as I read her latest message.

_Sounds great. I'll be waiting for you . . . naked._

Naturally, this message invites the memory of her naked body, and it's all I can seem to think about. This isn't necessarily a bad thing . . . until my clients show up and I have to try and think about the layout of their building and not the so-very-many positions I can come up with on how to lay out the twenty-one-year-old I'm involved with on her bed.

I'm happy that I manage to make it through my meeting and get the blueprints straightened out so we can go ahead on the project. When all is finalized, I thank them for taking the time to come down before walking them to the elevator. Once they're gone, I grab my phone and dial Jasper's office to see if he's got time to meet with me before I head over to Bella's place.

Turns out, he has an hour free before he heads home, so I tell him I'll be right over. I tell my assistant to forward any calls to my cell—unless they're from Tanya—and she smirks. She's always hated my wife, but that's probably because Tanya is a raving lunatic and was always accusing Siobhan—a happily married woman with a little girl—of sleeping with me. That really should have been my first clue that Tanya was fucking around on me behind my back. Don't they always say that your own guilt makes you accuse others of the crimes you're in fact guilty of?

I knock on Jasper's office door, drawing his eyes to mine, and he smiles as he waves me inside. He gestures for me to take the seat across from him, and I comply. "Hey, man. How's it goin'? Alice tells me you've got her busy redoin' the condo? She's pretty excited, especially since she hasn't shut up about Tanya's horrific decoratin' tastes in the last thirteen years."

I laugh, running my fingers through my hair. "Yeah, I figured she'd be up to the task." Then something occurs to me, and I arch an eyebrow inquiringly toward Jasper. "She's going to bleed me dry, isn't she?"

Jasper's eyebrows pull together with confusion. "Tanya? Doubtful. Your pre-nup was iron-clad, and she was in breach of it."

"No, your wife," I clarify with a smirk, and Jasper joins in on my laughter.

"Oh," he gasps between bouts of laughter. "Yeah, probably."

We sit for a few minutes, joking about my little sister's outrageous spending habits, before we both finally cut to the chase. "In all honesty, Jasper, am I screwed?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all. Like I said before, your pre-nup was iron-clad. It laid out the result of infidelity, and she was caught red-handed. She won't get a dime of your money. I guarantee it. In fact, I say take her car back, too. That bitch doesn't deserve to keep it."

Chuckling, I nod. "I already told her to prepare to give it back."

"Good."

"How long could everything take? Realistically, I mean," I inquire, more-so because while I know my marriage is over, I still feel guilty that I'm legally attached to Tanya and sleeping with another woman.

"Most of the time, about a year." He pauses a moment and shrugs. "But given the circumstances, this could all be done in a couple of months max. You could even be divorced by the new year."

The thought of ringing in the New Year with Bella as a single man is liberating, and I find myself smiling.

"Alice was right," Jasper muses aloud. "You've met someone, haven't you?"

Always pretty empathetic to what others around him are feeling, it doesn't surprise me that Jasper's picked up on this, and I shrug. "Truthfully, I've known her a while, we've only just realized there could be more between us."

"But you're not tellin' anyone about her just yet," he deduces, shocking me a little.

"You're oddly intuitive," I remark.

"Or I have a very talkative wife," he corrects with a crooked smirk and a snicker. "Look, I'll do what I can. Since there's really not a lot that has to be divvied up between the two of you given her whoring around on you—"

A bark of laughter escapes me, interrupting him. "Is that a technical term?"

"When it comes to Tanya? Yes," Jasper deadpans. "Anyway, things should run smoothly. She hasn't got a leg to stand on, so this could be one of the simplest divorces I've ever had the pleasure of processing."

After thanking Jasper profusely, I exit his office and make my way to Bella's place to share the good news. I'm pretty sure I break the speed limit the entire way to her neighbourhood—something I seem to do whenever getting to her is of necessity—and I arrive before I know it, parking in one of the visitor parking spots. Sure, she doesn't have a vehicle, and I could park in her spot, but the last thing I need is a surprise visit from Charlie and having him find my car in her spot.

I let myself into the building with the key Bella gave me on Monday, and I make my way up the stairs and down the hall. The door to her neighbour's place opens and he steps out with a bag of trash, looking at me as I walk by. I glance over my shoulder as I arrive at her door and find him standing there, still watching me as I push the key into the deadbolt. "Hey," I say. "How's it going?"

He runs his hand through his shaggy blond hair and scratches the back of his neck as he casts his blue eyes down to his feet, mumbling something I can't understand as he turns and heads for the trash chute. Bella's right, the guy's a little weird, and I think that maybe he has a crush on her.

The minute I close the door behind me and slide the deadbolt into place, a warm—and very naked—body crashes into mine, forcing me back until the doorknob to press into my lower back. Her lips trail up and down my neck as her hands slide up under my suit jacket and push it down my arms.

"Mmm," she moans against my throat, and the sound travels beneath my skin. "I'd had this whole sexy vixen thing planned where you'd come in and find me on the couch or my bed . . ." She wraps a hand around my tie, her index finger looping over the Windsor knot and tugging it down to loosen it. "But seeing you in this fucking suit . . ." Her teeth nibble at the skin just below my ear as she pulls the tie from around my neck, and my cock responds with a twitch and a throb while my hands fly to her hips and pull her against me. "God, it just makes me so damn hot."

Her fingers are swift and precise as she slips each small button through its eyelet and removes my shirt, running her hands over my chest and down my abdomen until she reaches my belt. My muscles quiver under her touch as she undoes the buckle and then the button on my slacks, and she takes extra care to slide my zipper down over my now extremely hard cock. I groan, dropping my face to kiss her, but before my lips can touch hers, she drops to her knees before me, hooking her fingers into the waist of my pants and tugging them down carefully.

Seeing her down there, eyeing my dick and licking her lips as she wraps her hand around it flips the switch in my brain to auto-pilot. I've imagined what it would feel like to be buried to the hilt in her mouth—envisioned what it would be like to watch her head move back and forth as my engorged cock disappears between her red, swollen lips—but seeing her there, her body trembling in anticipation as she leans forward and parts her lips has me struggling to keep from blowing my load before it's time.

Then her perfect pink tongue peeks out, and the minute it touches the tip of my cock, tasting the small drop of moisture that had gathered there, I snap back to reality and hold her just out of reach by her shoulders. "Wait," I pant, breathless even though we haven't even done anything yet.

Her hands run over my thighs, her fingers curling and biting into my skin as she looks up at me pleadingly, and she even releases a tiny whimper. "Edward," she whispers, shifting back and forth between her knees and trying to scoot closer again. "I want you in my mouth. Every last glorious inch of you."

Well, now she's just sweet-talking me.

It's really hard for me to not give into her when she looks up at me with those big brown eyes, but I have to . . . for now. "Bella," I say, my voice thick and raspy. "You have no idea how much I want that, too, but we have to wait."

"_Why?" _She brings a hand back to my cock and strokes it, forcing my resolve to crumble a little and my inner caveman to rush to the surface before I am forced to bitch-slap him back into submission. Her sexual confidence astounds me, and there's a part of me that wants to know where she learned this. Of course, the other half knows that that particular conversation would likely end with me in jail after having beaten every man that's ever laid a hand—or even just his eyes—on her.

I groan, letting my head hit the door behind me with a light thud as she continues rubbing my cock. I'm finding it harder and harder—no, not just my cock—to remember what we're talking about, but I manage, and I even manage to remember the reason. "Because the clinic hasn't called back with the results of my tests." This is probably the least sexy conversation I've ever had while a woman's hand has been wrapped around my dick.

My eyes are still closed as I try to hold onto my self-control, but I can't mistake the feeling of Bella's lips as she kisses the shaft of my erection once . . . twice . . . three times.

"Jesus . . . _fuck_ . . ." I mumble, my hold on her shoulders clearly weakening with every second considering I can feel the warmth of her skin against my legs. Then, before I can tell her that everything is probably fine considering I couldn't remember the last time I'd even slept with my skank of a wife, she stands up and takes me by both hands, leading me back toward her bed.

"Well," she says coyly, sitting on the edge of her bed before moving herself to the centre of it and letting her legs fall open. "I can assure you that you've got nothing to worry about with me . . . so you're free to do whatever you want to this body."

The caveman is back in control, and I rush to fill the spot between her legs, hooking my arms beneath her thighs and leveraging her until her glistening pussy is aligned with my face. Using one hand, I stroke her folds, parting them and leaning in. She moans above me, and I glance up from between her legs to see her head fall back onto the bed as she clutches the comforter in her fists. Unable to take my eyes off her, I slide my tongue between her slick folds and around her clit, making her legs tremble.

"Oh, god!" she cries out, her right leg flexing and threatening to kick straight out before she reins in the impulse.

The musky scent of her arousal is intoxicating, and I swipe my tongue over her flesh again, bathing it in the taste of her, and watching as she comes undone above me. The sounds she makes—soft sighs, loud cries, moans, and groans—makes my cock impossibly harder, and I can't wait to be inside her to relieve us both of our mounting climaxes. Of course, I'd like to let her get one off before I do this, so I double my efforts, flicking my tongue over her clit while sliding two fingers into her and searching out that elusive spot that makes her crazy.

When her pussy tightens around my fingers, and her cries are cut off as though they're being strangled, I know her first orgasm has claimed her. I wait for it to ebb, kissing her inner thighs softly as her legs fall slack around me and her hands release the blankets from their death-grip, before inching my way up her body.

Her dark brown eyes are hooded and shining with elation as she threads her fingers into my hair, pulling my face forward until her lips are pressed firmly to mine. Her tongue delves into my mouth, colliding and sliding over mine as she kisses me deeply. She releases a moan into the kiss, tightening her hold on my hair as she takes my bottom lip between hers and sucks gently before releasing it.

"God, Edward," she pants breathlessly. "I can taste myself on your lips . . ."

"Do you like it?" I ask in a rough, unrecognizable voice. I don't know where the question had come from, because dirty-talk isn't something I ever really partake in, but it's out there now, and the excited gleam in her eyes doesn't make me regret it one fucking bit.

"I fucking love it," she whispers, keeping her eyes locked with mine as she pulls me down for another torrid kiss.

Her hips move up off the bed, forcing my cock to slide between her legs until it brushes her entrance, and I have to fight the desire to thrust into her tight, wet heat. "Bella, we . . . we need a . . ." Every upward thrust of her hips has me stammering for the remainder of my sentence, and I'm so glad that women are able to use their brains at the same time as their libidos, because men can't—not ever—and she understands what I'm trying to say.

She twists her upper body away from me to grab a condom from her bedside table, and as soon as the rubber is in place, I reach above her and hold onto the edge of the bed as I drive my hips forward. I slowly bury myself inside of her, and she digs her heels into my ass in encouragement. While I want this to go on for much longer, the foreplay we'd engaged in has pushed me too close to the edge, and it doesn't take much to send me over, my cock pulsing inside of her as she shifts her hips against me in an effort to chase down her own orgasm.

The final waves of ecstasy are lapping around me as she snakes her hand between our bodies, and it isn't until I feel her hand move in slow precise circles against my pelvis and notice her eyebrows pull together that I realize she's making up for what I failed to do for her a second time. Thankfully, it doesn't take long before she joins me, and even though I've already finished, feeling her pussy contract around me sends a fresh surge of arousal through my veins. As much as I would love for it to be, it's not enough for round two—not yet, anyway—and I collapse beside Bella, kissing her sweaty shoulder

Sighing contentedly, Bella's head flops to the side and she kisses the tip of my nose. "That was awesome," she pants.

I'm about to agree wholeheartedly, until I remember I wasn't entirely responsible for her second orgasm, so instead, I apologize. "I'm so sorry."

Her head pulls back, her eyebrows pulled together, but this time for an entirely different reason than a moment ago. "For what?"

I'm unable to put into words what I'm apologizing for, but I can tell she already knows, and it makes her giggle, my pride taking the hit and beginning to bruise. Before I can get too upset, though, she rolls over and straddles my hips. "You were _amazing_. So I needed a little extra nudge at the end there. That's hardly something to be sorry about. I came _twice_, Edward. Because of you. Don't ever apologize for that."

And just like that, she's done what she's always been able to do: she's set my mind at ease and reminded me that what we have is more real than anything else in my life. I wrap my arms around her, crushing her body to mine, and I realize that I don't just care for Bella; I love her.

No, it's even more than that, because I've always loved her in some way or another . . .

I'm _in_ _love_ with her.

The next two days fly by, and Alice calls me Thursday night to tell me she's finished with the bedroom. She tells me she'll leave the keys with the doorman and the plans for the rest of the house are sitting on the kitchen counter for me to look over in case I want to change something.

When I originally mentioned the condo remodel to Bella, she told me I was acting a little crazy, but as soon as I brought up my reasoning, she seemed to understand. She'd only ever been to the condo once shortly after Tanya and I bought the place and threw a house-warming party, so, when I invited her over for the weekend, she practically jumped at the opportunity.

She had a study session with Jessica after her last class, but told me she'd be done by six and would head over then. I asked if Jessica would be dropping her off, and she assured me she still hadn't told anyone, and that she was going to take the bus.

In addition to talking to Alice, I get a call from the clinic, and stop by to talk with the doctor I'd seen earlier in the week and find out—much to my relief—that everything has checked out all right. While it's not my intention to start having unprotected sex immediately, I'll admit that it's nice to know I didn't contract something from one of Tanya's many escapades.

After finishing up at the clinic, I make a quick stop at the florist, where I grab a huge bouquet of red roses, and then I stop at the market after work that afternoon since I have yet to stock my fridge and cupboards. I want to have dinner ready for us when Bella arrives, and since I have a couple hours, I decide to prepare a rack of lamb with a side of roasted asparagus and butternut squash. While everything cooks, I set the table for two, putting Bella's flowers into a vase and lighting a few candles to set a more romantic mood. By the time six-thirty rolls around, the condo has been infused with the delicious smell of our dinner, and I'm just pulling out a bottle of wine for the two of us to share.

At quarter-to-seven, my phone rings, and I pick it up, seeing that it's the front door. The doorman is off at six on Fridays, meaning that any visitors have to use the buzzer system to gain entry into the building.

"Hey," I say, knowing it's Bella on the other end. "Come on up."

"Thanks," she replies before I hit the pound button, granting her access to the main entry, and I head over to the apartment door and unlock it so she can just walk in.

About five minutes pass before there's a light knock on the door and she steps inside. "Hey, sorry I'm late." She pauses, and when I turn to her, I see her wide eyes as she takes in the room, from the flowers and wine, right down to the candle-lit dinner I'm just setting out onto the table.

"Wow," she exhales softly. "This is gorgeous . . . and it smells delicious." Smiling, she puts her fingertips to her lips. "I'm afraid I might be drooling a little," she jokes.

I finish putting the lamb on the table before I cross the room to her, taking her bags and jacket and putting them in the hall closet before I whisk her into my arms and kiss her heatedly. When I pull away, a soft sigh falls past her lips, and her eyes flutter open. "Well that was quite the welcome. Had I known that's what was waiting for me, I'd have hijacked the bus and driven here myself."

Laughing, I take her hand and lead her for the table, pulling her chair out for her. "Yeah, but had you done that, then I'd have had to bail you out of jail."

"Good call," she agrees, leaning forward and lifting the lid off of the roasted vegetables and inhaling deeply. "Edward, this is amazing."

Over dinner, I tell Bella about my day, telling her that I've spoken with Jasper again and he's started drawing up the divorce papers and has even been in contact with Tanya's attorney. I don't dwell on this part of the conversation for long, because it's really not how I want our evening to go. I change the topic, asking about her study session with Jessica.

By the time our plates are empty, we've almost polished off the entire bottle of wine, and I can see that the wine is having the same effect on her that it is on me; her eyes are slightly hooded and her posture is a little more relaxed as she leans back in her chair and eyes me from across the table . . . then I feel her foot slowly sliding up my jean-covered leg until it rests in my lap.

She smiles, sinking her teeth into her plump lower lip and eyeing me coyly. "I missed you," she confesses, lightly running her foot over the fly of my jeans and making my cock stir.

Shifting in my chair to get a little more comfortable, I clear my throat. "The feeling was more than mutual, sweetheart."

Bella places her foot back on the floor and pushes her chair away from the table, the feet scraping over the tile as she stands and slinks toward me. She straddles my lap and wraps her arms around my neck, leaning in and ghosting her lips over mine. "Well, what do you say we . . . _reconnect_ in an effort to get rid of that feeling of loneliness?"

Laughing softly, I nod, my nose brushing hers softly. "I think I like it when you talk dirty," I reply, letting my lips graze a fiery trail over her jaw and toward her ear.

With a soft sigh, Bella cups my face in her hands and forces my eyes to hers. "Oh, you think that was dirty? You haven't even heard the half of it."

She crushes her lips to mine, and I groan, my hands ensnaring her hips and pulling her against my growing erection. Admittedly, it's not the most comfortable feeling in the world, having my dick trapped behind a denim prison, but Bella's quick to wiggle back a little so she can unfasten my jeans. With my fly wide open, Bella yanks my shirt up my body, forcing my hands from her hips until she's removed it. She throws it on the floor before ridding her body of her own top and leaving her above me in a black lacy bra. It's so sheer that I can see the dark pink flesh of her hardened nipples, and my hands fly to them like magnets.

Bella throws her head back as I palm her sensitive flesh through the lacy undergarment, and I crave more from her. While I lean forward, I tug the right cup of her bra from her tit and place my mouth on her nipple, letting my tongue circle and flick the pebbled peak. She fists my hair, holding my mouth against her warm flesh, while my free hand moves down her body, unfastens her jeans, and slips inside to find her already aroused. I move my fingers back and forth as much as I can between her legs, and her hips move in time with me.

"Oh, Edward," she sighs, resting her head on top of mine as I move my mouth to her other breast and discard her bra to the floor.

My teeth graze her hardened flesh at the same time I circle her clit, and she gasps, thrusting her hips forward again, making the chair tip back a little and knock against the table . . . or, at least I _thought _it was the chair knocking on the table until there were three more knocks that came from the front door.

Panting and startled, Bella and I turn our heads toward the door and look at it as though we're waiting for it to burst open and have our secret revealed to whoever's behind it. Nothing happens right away, but soon four more loud knocks echo through the apartment, mirroring the pounding of my heart against my ribs.

As if the unannounced guest isn't enough to deal with, the knowledge of _who_ it is only adds to my distress.

"Edward! It's me!" Charlie says through the door. "Open up. I know you're home."

Bella inhales sharply, holding her breath and slapping her hands over her mouth. "Oh, god," she mumbles through her fingers. "What the hell are we going to do?" She's panicking. I can see it in her eyes and feel it in the tremble of her thighs.

"Easy," I whisper, easing her off my lap, handing her shirt to her, and pulling mine on as well. "Duck down behind the counter. I'll get rid of him."

Bella nods, pulling her sweater over her head and dashing behind the counter to wait as I adjust my dick and do up my pants. Things have the potential to blow up in our faces right now, and I'm trying to remain calm for the both of us. Once I reach the door, I unlock it and pull it open, forcing a smile that I pray comes across as genuine and not nervous.

"Charlie, hey," I greet. "How'd you get in? I didn't hear the buzzer."

"Oh, one of your neighbours was leaving and held the door for me."

I nod in understanding and secretly curse this unknown person. "So, what brings you to the city?"

"Well, I have the next couple of days off, and I decided to come into the city to take Bella to dinner, but she's not home."

_Does he know she's here?_ The question repeats in my mind, and my heartbeat picks up. I'm certain he's going to hear it.

He shrugs, stepping past me and into the main entry, even though I didn't think I'd left that much room for him to do so. I am sure to keep myself in his way so he can't come in any farther. Bella's not completely concealed, and I don't think either of us is ready to explain this away.

"She's seeing someone," Charlie says. "That neighbour of hers told me that some guy's been coming and going this past week."

I relax a little because it seems he doesn't actually know, and I casually lean against the wall. "Oh, yeah?"

"At first, I didn't understand why she wouldn't tell me," Charlie says, looking a little upset. "But then her neighbour told me that this guy looked like he was about fifty."

I'm going to fuck that guy up.

Behind me, there's a low wooden thud, and I very briefly grimace, hoping Charlie hasn't heard it. But he has, and he instantly looks around me and into the kitchen, his eyes widening.

"What the hell's going on here?" he demands quietly as he absorbs the scene in the kitchen.

We've been found out. I stand up straight, shaking my head as I move with him to keep him from going into the kitchen. He may know, but I can keep him from laying into Bella. I'll take the fall for this.

"Listen, Charlie, I can explain," I begin. "I didn't mean for this to happen, but—"

He turns his eyes back to me, and that's when I see that he's not shocked and angry, but shocked and . . . _proud?_ Now I'm confused. "You dirty dog," he proclaims in a hushed tone. "You took my advice, didn't you? You went out and found some hot piece of ass to help you get over Tanya."

Okay, so he doesn't know, but this could turn out to be so much worse.

"Charlie, please—"

"Well, where is she?" he asks, looking around me, but I continue to get in his way. "Is she hot?" He laughs. "What am I saying? Of course she is!"

"Charlie, seriously . . . I don't think now is a good time."

"You mean you're not going to tell me anything?" I shake my head, because I'm really not about to get into the details of my "hot piece of ass," mainly because I value my life, and I can't be sure he isn't carrying.

Thankfully, he relents, holding his hands up in surrender. "All right, fine. You'll tell me when you're ready." He backs toward the door, opening it. Before he slips back out into the hall, he smirks. "By the way, congrats." His comment confuses me, and I arch an eyebrow quizzically as he points past me and continues. "Based on her choice of lingerie, she's got to be a wildcat in the sack."

I'm horrified as my eyes land on Bella's lacy bra in the middle of my kitchen floor, but I try not to let it show on my face. "Goodnight, Charlie. If you decide to stay in the city, let me know. Maybe we could do lunch tomorrow."

Charlie's head bobs. "That's actually a great idea. Maybe I'll grab a hotel room . . . I'd ask to stay on your couch, but . . ." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and I fight the impulse to bury my face in my hands.

"Right," I agree, hoping my voice is even. "Well, let me know about tomorrow, then."

"Will do," he says, and I'm just about to close the door when he stops me. "Oh, and can you do me a favour?" I nod in response. "Check in on Bella every once in a while. I'm not sure I like the idea of her dating someone twice her age. You two have always been close, and I think she'll listen to you. If I tell her to steer clear of this guy, it'll just drive her further into his arms."

I laugh, and I know it comes across as nervous as it feels. "I will, Charlie. I'll, uh, talk to her."

And with that, he's gone, and I click the deadbolt back into place before turning and pressing my back to the door, letting my body slide to the floor. Soft footfalls cross the kitchen, and soon Bella is kneeling in front of me, placing her hands on my knees.

"Well, that was more than I ever needed to hear my father say," she jokes softly.

I want to laugh—to pretend that nothing has changed, but the truth is, everything has changed. While Charlie doesn't realize that _I'm_ the older man involved with his daughter, he's already proven his disapproval of the situation. We won't be able to win him over, and I can't tear Bella's relationship with him apart.

"Edward?" Her voice is soft, afraid, and her head starts to shake from side to side, like she knows what's coming.

"I think I should take you home."

* * *

**A/N2: Okay, I know this looks bad, guys, but have faith in me, okay? The poor guy's scared.**

**Also, the creepy neighbour will not be making trouble of any kind (other than telling Charlie that Bella's dating some guy who "looks about fifty." :P) I promise. The only drama in this story will be surrounding this relationship and how everyone handles it when they find out.**

**Cool?**

**On that note, what did you all think?**

**Until next time! **

**xoxo**


	5. Keep Holding On

**Disclaimer:** Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.

**Rated for serious (not really) adult content and language.**

**WARNING: **This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing.

**A/N: So, I'm still working on RwaV's next chapter, but I felt bad after leaving FMF on that cliffie last time, so I worked on this chapter first. Cool?**

* * *

**Chapter 5 | Keep Holding On**

I still can't believe what's happened. Okay, it's not that I don't _believe_ it; I guess I'm just stuck in a state of denial over the entire thing.

Home. He wanted to take me home.

I'd seen his decision before he even voiced it, but that didn't make his words sting any less. It shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did, given we had come so incredibly close to being caught by my dad, but it did. I guess I'd just been so caught up in how amazing it was to be with him that the reality of our situation just sort of evaporated slowly throughout the week.

I could see how much my father's comments had upset him, though, and I wasn't just going to pretend like everything was okay. Because they weren't. They could be, sure, but in that moment, it was obvious that we had to figure things out sooner rather than later.

"_Edward, we should talk about this," I whisper._

_He shakes his head, pushing himself to his feet and letting my hands fall from his knees as I look up at him. "We will, but . . . I need to process everything first."_

"_Okay," I reply, dragging the word out as I hop to my feet and follow him through his apartment as he searches for . . . something. "Well, don't you think we should try and process this together? Maybe try to figure out what to tell him?"_

_Edward stops searching, fisting his car keys from the end table in his living room, and my stomach drops. He's taking me home, whether I want to go or not._

"_How could we possibly spin this into something he'd even remotely approve of?" he asks, his voice growing a little louder. He's upset, and while I know his anger isn't directed at me, I can't help but keep my distance and wrap my arms around myself._

"_I get that he's going to have a hard time accepting this." My eyes catch Edward's, and I swear I see his urge to blurt out "yeah, right," but I keep talking, not giving him the chance. "I do. But don't you think that once he understands how happy we are together, he'll come around?"_

_Edward is silent, contemplative for a moment, before he rakes his fingers through his hair roughly and shakes his head again. "You didn't see the look in his eyes when he brought up the fact that you were seeing a man twice your age, Bella . . ."_

"_Okay," I quickly agree, interjecting as he lets his sentence hang there, unfinished. "Well, that's because, right now, he thinks I'm just dating some random fifty-year-old." The second I see his guard drop, I let my arms fall from around my body and take a step forward, placing my hands on his hips and smiling up at him. "And let's be realistic, here," I add on slyly, "I would never date a fifty-year-old . . . I have standards. Forty-three is kind of my limit."_

_While I'd hoped to gain a bigger smile and a laugh, I'm forced to settle with a weaker version of his crooked grin. "Come on," he says, nodding his head for the door. "I'll take you home."_

_There's no arguing with him, so, defeated, I force a smile to my face, grab my things, and follow him out of his place and to his car. The entire drive back to my apartment is quiet, save for the soft jazz music pouring from the Lexus' speakers. It confuses me at first when Edward slows down and starts scoping out the cars along the street outside my apartment, but then I realize he's probably looking for Dad's car. When he doesn't find it, he pulls up in front of my building and puts the car in park._

_We sit there for a few minutes in near-silence, and I'm looking at my fidgeting hands, not wanting to get out of the car and trying to find a way to tell him this. Before I can say anything, he gets out and comes around to open my door. I sigh, dejected, and take his offered hand. We stand by the car, looking anywhere but at each other, and I'm trying so hard to ignore the burning in my eyes._

"_I'm sorry," Edward breathes softly, his thumb moving softly over the back of my hand; I hadn't realized he was still holding it. _

"_I know," I reply, my voice breaking and the first tear escaping. This is starting to feel an awful lot like a breakup . . . which is ridiculous since we haven't even defined whatever our relationship is. "It's fine," I tell him, even though nothing about this feels _fine_. Pretending to scratch an itch on my cheek, I discreetly wipe the tear that escapes and look up at him. He looks devastated. _

_My heart clenches and my stomach flops as I step forward and gently place my hand on his chest, kissing his cheek softly and feeling his heart pound under my touch. There's so much I want to say, but I know I won't be able to say any of it without breaking down, so I simply turn around and head for my apartment building._

"Hello . . . Earth to Bella." Jessica's voice pulls me from the painful memory, and I turn to her.

It's Monday morning, and we've just arrived on campus. I'm exhausted, having not slept well almost all weekend, and it shows in my eyes. Every time I'd lie down in bed, Edward's scent on my pillows would remind me of what happened Friday night. Every time I'd open the fridge and see all the food in there, I'd remember again. At one point on Saturday night, I remembered that Edward still had my spare keys. Several times, I'd find myself hoping—even praying—that he'd come to his senses and show up, kissing all of this away and assuring me that, as long as we were together, we could handle anything the world had to throw at us. This never happened, so when I crawled out of bed on Sunday, smelling his smell and seeing all that food in my fridge once more, I gave up hope that he would come to me. Everything in my small apartment screamed of the past week that Edward and I had shared together; there was no escaping it.

Hence my lack of sleep.

"I'm sorry," I say, smiling weakly. "What?"

Jessica shakes her head disapprovingly. "What's up with you today? I hate to say it, but you look like hell, and you're acting like something from another planet."

I'm too exhausted to feel insulted, and one look in the passenger-side mirror is all the proof I need to know Jess is totally right. I run my fingers through my hair, not that I expect this to do anything, and I pull it into a messy bun-thing on top of my head, hoping it looks intentionally dishevelled and not as horrifying as the rest of me. Along with the dark circles of exhaustion under my eyes and the pile of slightly tangled hair on top of my head, my clothes also indicate my mood. Unable to find it in myself to really give a shit, I paired my favourite jeans—the faded ones that have holes in both knees from wearing them so damn much—with my Forks High sweatshirt. This isn't normal for me, as I typically take a little more pride in my appearance.

This should bother me, because I've never let a guy get to me like this before, but it doesn't. Why? Because Edward isn't like any guy I've ever been involved with, and I find myself feeling lost without him. Even though we'd only just been together a short time, what we had felt so real.

Having always been able to tell when something's bothered me, Jess watches me sympathetically. "What happened? On Friday, you were in such a good mood, and now . . .? It's like you've done a 180 or something."

I feel the tears starting to well up behind my eyes, so I turn away from her and try to hold them back. "Nothing," I lie. "I just didn't get a lot of sleep this weekend."

Jessica lays her hand over mine, and I glance down at them. "Normally, I'd say 'way to go,' but the look on your face would indicate that your lack of sleep isn't due to that guy you've been seeing." She pauses, then adds, "Actually, I bet it is, but not in a feel-good way."

I laugh wryly. "Something like that." I want to tell her—I really do—but there's nothing really to tell anymore. He didn't even call . . . of course, neither did I.

"I'm here if you need someone to talk to," Jess whispers softly. "You know that, right?"

I nod. "I do. Thank you."

"And you know it's the best friend's job to castrate any man that hurts the other, right?" I laugh genuinely, for the first time since Friday, at her joke—at least, I hope it's a joke. Kind of. "You just tell me who, when, and where."

Jess and I step out of the car and head to our first classes. The day goes by as I'd expected—painfully slow—and nothing can hold my focus long enough to keep me from thinking about Edward. I imagine I look like a zombie to most people I pass in the halls, and I don't know when I became _this _girl—the girl who's sick to death over a boy—but I have. I find I can't help it, though; I miss him terribly, and I want to call him, even if it's only to hear his voice and then hang up.

During lunch, Jess talks about her first few classes and tries to get me to join in on the conversation. She never pressures me, instead always trying to keep it going by asking questions or changing the topic to one she thinks I might enjoy. She really is the best, but all I'm interested in is pushing my salad around my plate with my fork. I don't think I even eat any of it by the time lunch ends and we have to part ways for class, but I can't really tell because my appetite just hasn't been what it used to be.

My afternoon mirrors my morning, and I'm more than a little relieved when my last class lets out. All I want to do is pull on a pair of sweat pants and crawl into my bed, pulling my blanket over my head and disappearing for a little while. Like every other day, Jessica waits by the main entrance for me, and we walk out to her car together. We make it to the end of the sidewalk when Jessica nudges me.

"Hey, isn't that your dad's friend?" she says, pointing toward the parking lot.

I admit, my eyes hadn't been particularly focused on anything but my feet since we left the school, but the minute she says this, my head snaps up and my heartbeat quickens. She's right. He's there—dressed in a dark suit, his tie still done up but pulled loose around his neck, the top button of his shirt undone—and leaning up against his car with his arms crossed in front of him as he stares at the ground. Then, it's as though he can sense me, and he looks up, standing up straighter and offering me a small, tentative smile. From where I stand, he appears apologetic, and I take an eager step forward, my body humming with the need to be near him, before I remember Jessica is still beside me and grind to a halt.

"Uh, yeah," I reply, just now realizing I still haven't answered her question.

"God, he's hot." Jessica sighs.

Warmth spreads through my cheeks, and I shrug. "Sure, if you're into that obvious good-looking type." Our eyes are still locked across the lot, and my body is screaming at me to run to him, but my brain reminds me that if I do that, I'll only raise more questions than either of us is ready to answer. "I'm, uh, going to go see what he wants." I turn to Jess and raise my eyebrows. "Wait for me?"

"Sure. I'll be in the car." She smiles at me and heads for her vehicle while I take my first few steps toward Edward.

Not wanting to appear too eager, I try to maintain a steady pace as I cross the lot toward Edward, but every so often, I'll speed up before pulling myself back. My heart hammers harder with every step until the sound of my pulse in my ears pushes every other sound away, and my body trembles with excitement.

Of course, I still don't know _why_ he's here, so this scares me a little.

"Hey," I greet lamely, standing about a foot away from him, even though I want to be closer. So much closer.

"Hi." His reply is equally as lame, which makes me feel a little better.

We stand there for what feels like way longer than a few seconds, and then I just can't stand it anymore. "What are you doing here?" I blurt out at the same time he says, "Can we talk?"

I look up at him, wide-eyed and speechless. "Talk?"

He chuckles, pushing his fingers through his hair, which I notice is a little more unruly than usual. "Yeah, you know, talk . . . that thing I was too stubborn to do Friday night."

Smiling, I shrug. "Well, as long as you're man enough to admit you were in the wrong—"

"_So_ wrong, Bella," he interrupts, his expression suddenly transforming from mildly humoured to sombre. The intensity of his green eyes burns into mine, and I feel like my entire body has been engulfed by the heat of his stare. It makes me tremble. "I know I fucked up, but I'm hoping that—"

"Give me a ride home?" I request, interrupting him. My voice is low and shaky as I resist the urge to wrap my arms around him in the middle of the parking lot, where people are already beginning to stare. "We shouldn't talk about this here."

Looking relieved, and quite possibly a little bit stunned, Edward quickly nods. "Y-yeah. Of course."

Glancing over my shoulder as Edward opens my door for me, I catch Jess' eyes and silently indicate with the tip of my head in Edward's direction that I'm getting a ride with him. Her eyebrows pull together, and I watch her mouth, "is everything okay?" Smiling, I nod and hold my thumb and forefinger to my ear, mouthing the words, "I'll call you later," and then I slip into the passenger seat.

The combined smell of Edward and the leather of his interior surrounds me—comforts me—and I inhale deeply, thinking this may be all I get. Sure, he's apologized, but that doesn't mean that anything has changed. All he's said is that he wants to talk; that could mean so many things.

"How was your day?" Edward asks, slipping in behind the wheel and closing his door. His eyes move over me, over my questionable choice of wardrobe, before settling on my face, and his expression turns remorseful. He can see, just as clearly as Jessica had earlier, how my day was—how my entire weekend was.

Of course, now that I'm in such close proximity, I take in his features. I can see the slightly deepened worry lines in his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes, and I realize that, without a doubt, his weekend was just as bad as mine was. I want to throw myself over the console and into his lap—to kiss away all of his worry and tell him we can make this work—but I know this is neither the time nor the place. Instead, I smile and place my hand over his on the gearshift for a brief moment, out of sight from anyone who might see what's really going on between us. "Take me home, Edward."

We're barely out of the parking lot before he apologizes again. "I shouldn't have taken you home like that. We should have talked about it. Figured everything out."

"I know," I tell him honestly, "but you were freaking out. I understood." Pausing, I look down at my lap and take a deep breath. "I only wish you'd have called. I thought . . ." Biting my lower lip, I stop myself, because, while he's here now, that doesn't mean he wants to continue whatever it is we had going on.

"You thought what?" Edward inquires softly.

"Well, you left." There. It's out there now. Band-aid off; wound exposed. "It felt pretty final. Like you were ending things." My nerves kick into overdrive, and soon I'm rambling. "I mean, we both knew the risks involved when we started this, and even though it was never supposed to go beyond Thanksgiving, we'd agreed to let things develop naturally. Yes, my dad showing up like that was a shock, and I get that it freaked you out—_I _was freaked out, too—but I didn't think you'd give up that easily."

"Give up?" Edward says, but I'm still too caught up in what I'm trying to say to really hear him as I continue to bulldoze through my thoughts.

"I know we never labelled what we have—_had—_but I thought things were going well, and then you just le—." That's when what he said registers—and more importantly, _how_ he said it. He sounded _confused_. My throat seizes up as I snap my gaze in his direction. The inflection of his voice repeats in my mind, and I know without a doubt I wasn't hearing things. Had I totally misinterpreted everything that happened on Friday?

He glances at me briefly before he averts his eyes back to the road. "Bella, I didn't give up," he admits, his voice soft. "I just thought I needed time alone to sort through everything that's happened."

"That's stupid," I blurt out.

He chuckles, and I find the laugh lines in the outer corners of his eyes oddly comforting. "Yes, well I realize this now. I'm not exactly known for making sound decisions when it comes to my relationships."

When we pull to a stop, I realize we've arrived at my building. Before I can ask him if he wants to come up and talk some more—because I feel we still have a lot to talk about—he unclips his seatbelt and turns to me. "I never meant to hurt you, and if it's any consolation, I was miserable without you."

I smile, unclipping my own seatbelt and mirroring his position. "Well, it's a start," I tell him, only half-kidding. "Do you . . . well . . . want to come up? You know, to talk."

His smile widens as he nods and turns the car off. "I would love that."

We walk up the four flights of stairs to my floor, and then wander down the hall. I reach into the pocket of my jeans for my keys, but before I can pull them out, Edward has slid his into the deadbolt and disengaged it, opening the door for me. I don't know why, exactly, but seeing him slip the keys back into his pocket instead of giving it to me fills me with a small amount of hope. That maybe we'll be able to figure all of this out.

Once we're inside, I walk to where my bed is and drop my bookbag to the floor next to my bedside table, and before I turn around, I feel Edward's arms wrap around my waist. I melt into the warmth of his embrace, my body softening as I relax against him and fold my arms over his.

"I'm sorry." Not only do I hear the sincerity in his words, but I feel it, moving beneath my skin, tingling. "I thought a lot about what you said—about how as long as we're happy, he'll come around—and while I'm not entirely convinced it's that black and white, I know that I'm willing to try to make him see."

Turning in his arms, I look up at him, my heart racing. "Really?"

"Really," he confirms.

My lips curl up into a wide smile and I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him and sighing contentedly when his lips brush the skin of my neck. He holds me back, lifting me off the ground, and the warmth of his feather-light kisses travel along my neck and over my jaw until his lips find mine enthusiastically.

Three days worth of pent-up frustration unleashes itself, and I press myself closer to Edward, taking his lower lip between my teeth and twisting my fingers into his hair. Hearing that what happened this weekend was just a small bump in the road—one that, to be quite honest, only foreshadows a much larger one that could send our lives into a tailspin—is such a relief. However, I don't just need to _hear_ it; I need Edward to show me.

"Mmmf, Bella," he mumbles against my voracious lips, and when he pulls away, I focus on his stubble-ridden jawline, kissing and nipping a trail toward his ear. "We should talk about this."

I know he's right and I should use every ounce of self-control I have to end the kiss. It's not like I don't realize that jumping back into bed will only prolong this conversation further—something we've already proven can be detrimental—but I can't find it in myself to tear myself away from him. I don't want to talk. Not yet. I want to get lost in him. I want to forget that Friday ever happened—just for a little while—and get back to the way things were. We can talk after. I promise I'll be a grown up just as soon as we're done.

He loosens his grip around my waist, lowering me to the floor as he tries to back away, but I refuse to relent. I slide my hands down his chest and tug on his tie until I've removed and tossed it aside. "I tried to talk to you on Friday," I tell him softly, an edge of anger still audible in my tone as I unfasten the buttons on his shirt and push it open. "You brushed me off."

"Because—"

"I know," I interrupt, looking up at him as I pull the hem of his shirt from the waist of his pants and push it down his arms. "But I don't want to talk. Not right this second. After, I promise." My attention falls to his belt, and I begin tugging at it impatiently, my fingers trembling with anticipation. "What I want right now, is _you_."

Everything happens so quickly after that.

Groaning, Edward slides his hand over my jaw until his fingers curl around my neck, pulling on the hairs that are currently pulled up in my messy bun. I don't care, though; the prickling sensation of pain only reminds me that this isn't a dream. His lips crush mine, our teeth hitting occasionally until we've found our rhythm, and his other hand begins to slide up under my sweater and toward my tits. My skin prickles with goosebumps under the warmth of his touch, and desperation burns through my veins. Unable to wait any longer, I quickly pull away, yanking my sweater and bra from my body in one fell swoop before frantically undoing my jeans while kicking my shoes off. As I work to remove my clothes, Edward is doing the same, both of us driven by nothing more than pure, carnal lust and need and loving every second of it.

There will be no sweet and sensual undressing of each other this time.

Once our clothes have been tossed aside, I reach forward and wrap my hand around Edward's neck, pulling him forward until his body crashes into mine, forcing us to topple over onto the bed. I use this momentum to roll us over until I'm straddling him, and I can feel his erection resting between my legs, tempting me . . . teasing me. I rock my hips over him, and he groans into my mouth, his fingers curling into the flesh of my hips and pulling me forward roughly until I cry out with pleasure.

There will be no sweet and sensual love-making this time, either. And I'm more than okay with that.

I break our kiss and look deep into his green eyes as I lean over him and reach for the bedside drawer to grab a condom, but Edward stops me. Every cell in my brain momentarily shuts down as he guides me over his cock, aligning us and pulling me down onto him. The feel of his skin against mine is so sensual that I find it hard to think rationally, and for the first time ever, I find myself wondering if this is how guys feel during sex. It's fucking amazing, and my body moves as if completely detached from all sense of reason.

Eventually, I am able to wade through the fog of lust and desire long enough to try and be responsible. "Wait," I pant, unable to stop my hips from moving. Every cell in my body is charged and crackling, and I just don't want it to end.

As I go back and forth on what I _should _do and what I _want _to do, Edward lifts his head from the bed and kisses me softly. "It's fine," he assures me, and one more look into his green eyes tells me everything I need to know, and I don't question it again. I only thank God I'm on the pill.

Our bodies continue to move together in a desperate attempt to find our release and put this weekend behind us. Our kisses are firm, making our lips swell and redden, and our teeth nip hungrily at sensitive patches of flesh. This is make-up sex at its finest, and I can feel our mutual frustration and misery of the last few days fading away as things between us continue to heat up and escalate. The beginning of my orgasm closes in around me when, out of nowhere, Edward rolls us over, withdraws from between my legs, and flips me over with a low growl.

The act catches me completely off guard, and my heart pounds with excitement at having unleashed this side of him as he props me up and pushes back into me. I cry out at the strength behind his movements, and his hands move up my body, one ensnaring my hip while the other grips the top of my shoulder for leverage. His fingers press into the side of my neck as he continues to move behind me, our collective moans and groans and cries of ecstasy mounting until they drown out everything else in the world.

The first wave of pleasure slams into me, making my arms and legs tremble beneath me, but Edward holds me up, chasing his own release. The minute his hips pulse unevenly against my ass and then still, I know he's succeeded, and I allow my arms to give out as the numbness spreads through my body. I sigh as Edward presses several gentle kisses along my spine, slowly lowering us both to the bed and rolling me to face him as we catch our breath.

We lay in silence for a few minutes, basking in the pure bliss of being with each other again, but there's no ignoring the giant purple elephant in the room any longer. "We're good, right?" I confirm, and Edward nods. "We're going to figure out a way to make this work?" He nods again, and I release a deep, calming breath, knowing that when it comes to my dad, we'll have to say exactly the right thing, at exactly the right time.

When my stomach rumbles—a reminder that I hadn't eaten much of anything all weekend—we head to the kitchen, naked, and find something quick, simple, and crumb-free that we can enjoy in bed. Once our bodies have been fed, we lie down, pull the blanket up to our hips, and stare at each other, occasionally reaching over and lacing our fingers together, or pushing the other's hair out of their face. It's sweet, and exactly what we need right now.

As the hours tick by, we talk about the mistakes we both made on Friday. It wasn't just Edward who fucked up by taking me home, but me as well for not fighting harder. Neither of us faults the other, of course, but at least we've acknowledged it and plan to keep it from happening again by always trying to be open and honest. Naturally, our conversation segues back into the event that brought us to this point, and after _a lot_ of sidestepping, we decide to figure out a way to break the news to my dad.

"Okay," I speak up, "I'd like to request we wait until after the holidays to tell him." Edward's brows pull together, puzzled, and I continue. "It's not that I want to keep sneaking around, because, after what happened on Friday, I know how scary the thought of being found out is. And while I know that he'll come around once he sees how happy we make each other, I'm not naive enough to think he'll accept us right away. I just don't think that we should run the risk of upsetting him around Christmas . . . You know?"

Edward's head bobs up and down slowly, his eyes dropping to his hand as it makes its way across the bed and takes one of mine. His thumb moves softly over my skin, and he silently assents.

"It's only a little over a month," I whisper, watching his thumb continue to glide over the back of my hand. "We can make it, right?"

The gentle pressure of Edward's hand around mine is all the assurance I need, but he verbalizes it anyway. "Of course we can."

As the sky continues to darken outside my bedroom window, not much else is said between the sweet, tender kisses we share, or the soft caresses of his fingers on my cheek, neck, or arm. Nonetheless, I feel content and happy with him across from me.

"It's getting late," Edward declares softly, his eyes dancing between mine as if searching for something.

I'm not sure if he's hinting at heading home, but before he says anything else, I speak up. "Stay with me." I reach across the bed and place my hand on his jaw, feeling the coarse stubble against my palm and zeroing my gaze in on his lips. "Please."

He covers my hand with his and closes his eyes. "I would love to." Turning his face slightly, he presses a kiss into my palm before lifting my hand and lacing our fingers together.

My eyelids are heavy, but there's this irrational part of my brain that fears this really is just a dream. That, if I fall asleep, I'll wake up alone again, so I try to make myself stay awake as long as possible. Soon, I yawn, and Edward follows suit, scooting closer to me on the bed and draping an arm over my waist. Our legs tangle together as he kisses my nose, and I sigh, my eyes fluttering closed as another yawn escapes.

"Get some sleep, Bella," he whispers, his warm breath fanning across my skin, and when I open my eyes a tiny bit, I see his own eyes are closing.

"Can't." Another yawn falls past my lips. "I don't want to wake up and find out this was all a dream."

Edward chuckles softly, his lips brushing my forehead. "Well, I could always pinch you or pull your hair to prove I'm really here," he teases, yawning as well.

Giggling, I cuddle against his chest, my fingers curling against his skin in a desperate need to cling onto him as I continue to fall victim to my exhaustion. I inhale deeply, letting his natural scent and cologne invade my senses, and say, "That's oddly sweet."

And then I don't fight it anymore; sleep takes over.

**oOo**

Over the next few days, Edward and I try to spend a little more time apart after coming to the realization that it might be borderline unhealthy to _need_ to spend every waking moment together. Not to mention, the more time we spent together, the higher the risk of being caught together. Not just by my dad, either, but by Tanya.

While Edward's divorce is supposed to be as complication-free as they get, he's not sure what will happen if our relationship is brought to light. Yes, we didn't technically get involved until after he was separated, but Tanya would find a way to use that to her favour anyway.

After going home with Edward on Monday night, I'd forgotten to call Jessica. Naturally, when she showed up at my apartment on Tuesday morning, she automatically assumed something was wrong with my dad—because, why else would his best friend show up on campus, looking a little worse-for-wear?

Why else, indeed.

I assured her that my dad was fine, but this only raised her curiosity. I'm certain I didn't do a very good job at trying to steer her in the other direction, because she had this look in her eyes by the time we got to school that said "You're keeping something from me."

Even though she didn't pressure me, I wouldn't be surprised if she starts putting two and two together soon enough. Keeping this from her bothers me more and more every day, and I feel like I need to tell someone before I slip up at the wrong time, but I know I can't do this without talking to Edward first. This news has the potential to spread like wildfire, and neither of us can afford that before we're entirely ready.

We make plans to see each other on Friday night—plans that include me going over to Edward's house. One week ago, this plan seemed like the most exciting thing in the world, but after everything that happened, it makes me a little nervous. I can't help but wonder if we'll have a repeat visit from my father—or, hey, maybe the Ice-Bitch will show up. That could be interesting.

I realize that the chances of this happening are slim to none—or maybe slightly higher—but it's a legitimate concern given our track record.

When I tell Edward this during our mid-week dinner date at my apartment on Wednesday night, he reaches for my hand and tells me everything will be fine. I'm about to list the reasons that my concerns are valid when he pulls his hand away from mine, revealing two silver keys attached to a key ring in my palm.

"What's this?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"The keys to my condo," he replies with a smirk. "I'll be working a little late on Friday night. This way, you can let yourself in if you want."

This feels like a big step—even though I gave Edward a key to my apartment and didn't expect it back—and I smile. "You're giving me a key to your place?"

"Well, yeah. I have one to yours, and I'd like someone besides me to have a set in case something happens."

"So this is purely a formality," I tease, narrowing my eyes playfully.

Edward laughs. "If that's how you want to look at it. But I want you to feel as comfortable in my place as I do in yours."

"Thank you," I tell him, leaning forward and kissing him.

And just like that, Friday night seems a little less daunting.

When I arrive at Edward's apartment, it's after six, so the doorman has already gone home for the night and I have to let myself in. With my very own set of keys, remember. When I step through the entryway to his unit and turn on the light, I see a large bouquet of roses on the side table and smile when I spot my name on the card.

I drop my bag to the floor and pick up the card.

_Bella—_

_Please make yourself at home. I'll pick up pizza on my way home from the office._

—_Edward_

I place the card next to the vase and smell my roses, remembering how he'd bought me flowers last week, too, but I'd never gotten the chance to really thank him since the night didn't exactly go as planned. I'll be sure to rectify that tonight, though.

After taking my shoes off, I grab my bag and walk through the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and making my way for the living room so I can do a little bit of my homework. I put my books on the modern glass coffee table and sit on the floor with my back against the black leather couch, flipping on the TV.

I see that Edward has HBO, and I've been meaning to catch up on _Game of Thrones_, so I go to his On Demand menu and locate the show. Naturally, this means I won't be getting any homework done, but I have all weekend, right?

An hour later, and fifteen minutes into my second episode, my books remain untouched, and my apple is finished. It isn't that I haven't _tried_ to do a little homework, but every time I look down at my books, something huge happens on the show. There's no way I can multi-task this time.

I'm so caught up in my show that when my phone buzzes on the table in front of me, I pick it up without looking at the caller ID, figuring it's probably just Edward calling to ask what kind of pizza he should pick up. "Hey," I say, unable to take my eyes off the TV during one of the many bloody crusades. "I'm here already."

"Hey, kiddo," Dad replies, shocking me.

"D-dad," I stammer, sitting up quickly, my back going rigid. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Pretty good. How're you doing? How's school?" he asks as I'm still trying to find my bearings.

"School's good." I haven't spoken to my dad since everything happened last week. I knew that if I tried to talk to him then, he'd figure out something was wrong, so I just let him think I was busy all weekend. Sure, it was a pretty asshole thing to do, but I was still pretty visibly shaken after Friday night.

"What are you up to? Homework?"

I try not to laugh too loud as I shake my head and pause the TV. "No, actually. I'm just catching up on _Game of Thrones_ while I wait for my pizza to get here." Yes, I could have lied to him, but I'm so bad at it that it's always just been easier to omit a few key facts instead. As long as he doesn't ask if I plan to hang out with anyone, I should be okay.

Dad pauses. "Never heard of it. Is it any good?"

I try to think of a way to explain it to my dad without letting him know that his "little girl" watches a show as sexually fuelled as this one. "I enjoy it. It, uh, has a tendency to be a little risqué, but it's a good story with interesting characters." There, that should cover up the fact that I enjoy the sexy parts just as much as the rest of it. Wouldn't want my dad thinking I'm less than angelic, after all.

He clears his throat, clearly not wanting to discuss just how explicit the show might be. "Well, I know you probably have plans tonight . . ." There's a certain inflection in his voice, and I wonder if he's going to ask about the guy he knows—but doesn't _really_ know—I'm seeing. When he doesn't mention it, I breathe a sigh of relief; he probably figures that Edward will talk to me about it . . . which I suppose he kind of did. So to speak, anyway.

"Anyway, I'm just calling about Christmas this year," he continues, breaking me from my confusing merry-go-round of thoughts. "You're still coming home, right? You don't have . . . _other_ plans?"

What he really wants to know is if I'm going home with my fifty-year-old boyfriend. I can read between the lines when everything is bold and underlined.

I laugh. "Yes, Dad, I'm coming home for Christmas. Who else is going to cook that big feast?"

Dad snickers in response. "Good to hear. I was thinking of inviting Edward, too. Maybe even have his sister and her husband come to the Christmas Eve get-together. What do you think?"

I'm successful in holding back a squeal of excitement—barely. Christmas with Edward? While this is hardly the first time we've spent the holidays together, this will be the first time we've spent the holidays _together._ What makes this especially funny to me is that Dad seemed a little concerned that I'd be spending Christmas with the much-older guy I'm seeing and has now, inadvertently, offered to make this happen.

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Just then, the front door opens, and I see Edward appear. He sees I'm on the phone and simply waves, not wanting to interrupt. He enters the living room and leans down to kiss me. When I mouth that it's my dad on the phone, he turns tail and heads into the bedroom like a bat out of hell.

"Okay, well I'll do that, then," Dad says. "Enjoy your show. I'll call you next week."

"Sounds good," I reply. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, Bells."

After I hang up the phone, I un-pause the TV and get caught right back up in my show. Edward appears from the bedroom, having traded his sexy-ass suit for even sexier comfortable-looking jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his upper body. He grabs the pizza from where he dropped it on the kitchen island between the living room and kitchen, and I clear a spot on the coffee table for it. When I open it up, I see it's a ham and mushroom pizza. It's been my favourite for as long as I can remember.

He sits behind me on the couch and leans forward as I tilt my head back, and he gives me this awkward-but-kind-of-sexy upside down kiss. "How was your day?"

"Good," I reply. "I was trying to do a bit of homework, but then I got distracted by the TV."

Edward glances up, his eyebrows rising, and when I look, I see two of the lead characters having sex. Perhaps I should have thought my programming choice through a little better.

"What are you watching?"

"_Game of Thrones_?" I don't know why it came out as a question, but it did.

Edward's shock seems to disappear, and he settles back into the couch. "Oh, I've heard this is really good."

I'm just about to tell him that it is, and that we could start from season one if he wants to watch it from the beginning, when his house phone rings from the end table next to him. Seriousness returns to the room when he looks at who's calling. "It's your dad," he tells me, and I take a bite of pizza while he takes the call.

"Hey, Chuck," he greets, knowing my dad hates that nickname. "What's up?"

While I can't hear what my father says, I know he's probably admonishing Edward for calling him "Chuck," and I cover my mouth to stifle any laughter while Edward nudges my ribs with his foot.

"Oh, nothing," Edward says in response to something Dad must have asked him. "Just having some pizza and watching some show called _Game of Thrones._"

I inhale sharply, turning around with wide eyes and shaking my head vigorously. Edward watches me, confused, but when his eyes widen, I know that he understands . . . because my father has just told him that _I'm _watching _Game of Thrones_ and was having pizza for dinner. This isn't good.

"Oh, yeah?" he says, his voice only slightly strained. "Small world, huh?"

I hold my breath, unable to even begin to figure out how we're going to get out of this mess.

It isn't until Edward relaxes back into his seat on the couch that I expel the breath, my vision darkening slightly around the edges and my head feeling light. Relieved that we were able to avoid this from happening _again_, I stand up and head to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of wine from the rack and go through several cupboards until I find two glasses, and when I return to the living room, I overhear Edward agreeing to Dad's invitation to Christmas at his place.

"Christmas in Forks sounds great," he says, smiling at me as I fill the two glasses and hand him one. He sets it on the table next to him and grabs my wrist, pulling me onto his lap. "I look forward to it."

I hear Dad say something, but I can't quite make it out, so when Edward looks at me, his green eyes glinting with mild humour, I eye him curiously.

"Yeah, I could see if Bella wants to tag along." He smirks, and I find it hard to resist the urge to run my fingers through his hair. "Okay . . . Sounds good, Charlie. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."

After making sure the phone is off, he sets it down on the table next to his wine and wraps his arms around my waist. "Well, I almost fucked that up . . . again."

"Yeah, well I guess it's probably fortunate for us we're not the only two people on the planet having pizza and watching this smutfest tonight," I tease, still dragging my fingers over his scalp. "So . . ." I tug on his hair lightly as I straddle his hips and grab his wine glass, taking a sip. "Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

Smiling, Edward takes the glass from me, has a drink, and sets it back in its spot before ensnaring my hips in his hands. "Isabella Swan," he begins, tilting his face up until our lips lightly brush. "Will you ride me down to Forks?"

My loud laugh echoes through his condo, and I swat his chest gently. "That's horrible!" I exclaim.

Edward pretends to look horrified and embarrassed. "I can't believe I just said that. Obviously I meant to ask if you'd ride _with_ me to Forks. What was I thinking?" Mock shame laces every single word, and I shake my head at him.

"You're incorrigible," I tell him, narrowing my eyes and leaning in to kiss him softly. "But my answer is yes, I'd be happy to ride with you to Forks." He smiles, and I lean over until my lips brush the shell of his ear. "I'd also be more than happy to ride you there, too."

And just like that, Edward's lips capture mine in a kiss so passionate, I'm surprised it doesn't burn down the building, and we proceed to make love right there on his couch. It's nice that we seem to have gone back to the way things were before in some areas, while in others our relationship has definitely evolved into something I can see surviving the trials I know lie ahead for us. My feelings for him run deeper than they have for anyone else, and, while I know it's crazy-soon, I'm fairly certain I've fallen for him.

Yes, I'm completely, head-over-heels in love with Edward Cullen.

* * *

**A/N: So, they've worked everything out, and now they're going to spend Christmas together . . . in secret. How's that going to go, do you think?**

**Just a reminder, this fic will not contain the drama of an unplanned pregnancy. The only drama will be that which surrounds their relationship. So their unprotected make-up sex will not result in a baby nine months from now. And, remember, Edward got the results from the clinic on the Friday that everything blew up in their faces. No STIs either ;P**

**In other news, I'm sure some of you have noticed that I started re-posting stories I pulled last year. The reason is that there's this great site called that allows you to turn your favourite fics into ePub books for your eReading devices! How cool is that?! It even pulls the covers! So, I've decided to repost them over the next little while, and I'll hopefully get a chance to rework bits and pieces of them as I go since my writing has grown over the years.**

**Until next time!**

**xoxo**


	6. Home for the Holidays

**Disclaimer:** Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.

**Rated for serious (not really) adult content and language.**

**WARNING: **This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing.

**A/N: I know I had a Bella-Edward-Bella-Edward routine going chapter-to-chapter, but this chapter was much better told in Bella's POV, so we'll hear from Bella again.**

**The site for downloading fics was WWW FLAGFIC COM. Sorry about that, guys. I didn't realize until after the fact that FFn deleted it from my AN!**

**In other exciting news: **_**Forgive me, Father, for I will Sin**_** has been recommended as for one of the Fic of the Week entries over on the Lemonade Stand! How fun! I've had a couple of stories in the past recommended, and even had one in the top five once, and it's always a pleasant surprise! To be grouped in with some truly amazing and talented authors and their stories is always so flattering and humbling! So, if you've got the time, please head on over to the site and check out all the entries. And don't forget to vote for your favourites!**

**And, here we go.**

* * *

**Chapter 6 | Home for the Holidays**

Over the next few weeks, Edward and I prepare for Christmas at my dad's. There are certain rules that we have to set between us in order to keep our relationship under wraps. Yes, I feel awful plotting to keep something that makes me this deliriously happy from my father, but I know—we both do—that it's for the best. He won't understand right away, and neither of us wants to upset him this close to the holidays. I am confident that his desire to see his little girl happy will eventually win out over the initial urge to be upset about this, but it'll take time to get there. And we'll give him as much time as he needs.

Sure, it's going to be difficult to pretend like nothing is going on between us, but I'm really hoping we'll be successful. I think I worry most because whenever we're in the room together, it feels as though the air is charged with the energy and desire for one another, and everything except the two of us seems to just slip away. What if others pick up on this?

So, in hopes of keeping that from happening, rule number one is to try to keep as much distance between us as possible without it seeming unnatural. Edward and I have always been close before embarking on this relationship, so if we avoid each other entirely, that's sure to raise a suspicious eyebrow or two, as well.

You see the dilemma? Get too close and chummy, and risk people suspecting we're sleeping together. Avoid each other entirely, and _also_ risk people suspecting we're sleeping together.

Rule number two—which kind of goes hand-in-hand with rule number one: no sex. Since we'll both be staying under Dad's roof, and he usually has a few days off around Christmas—barring any emergencies that demand he go into the department—it'd be too risky. In fact, we're lucky we didn't get caught at Thanksgiving—though there was that close call the day that Tanya showed up where my dad almost caught us making out in the kitchen.

We're grown–ups, though. We can abstain for a few days. I'm sure of it . . . Though, if I'm being entirely honest, we haven't really been able to do this successfully since we got together. Even the weekend when my dad showed up, the result of us not being together those three days was an explosion of sexual frustration as soon as Edward touched me. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; we'd just have to be careful to keep that sexual tension in check until we're sure it's safe.

Which circles right back up to rule number one: keeping our distance without being too damn obvious.

This roundabout way of thinking makes my head hurt a little, and I come to realize that this is going to be a lot more difficult than I'd originally thought. But not impossible.

Edward arrives at my apartment at nine in the morning on Christmas Eve. He'd wanted to leave the day before, but wound up having a few things to do at work, which kept him later. This means we didn't get around to getting each other out of our systems (repeatedly) like we'd planned, if you know what I mean. We'd figured that if we had one last really good romp in the sack before heading to Forks that we'd be able to follow our carefully laid out rules a little better. That plan was shot to hell the minute Edward called to tell me he wouldn't be coming over.

I've just finished packing my bag when there's a knock on the door before it opens. "Hey," Edward greets, closing the door behind him. "You ready?"

I drop my bag by the door and wrap my arms around his neck. Hey, I'm not breaking any rules; the "no touching" doesn't take effect until we pass that "Welcome to Forks" sign. I'll take full advantage up until I absolutely have to stop. "Just finished," I inform him, tilting my head toward his for a kiss.

He pulls me close, his arms circling my waist as he appeases my silent request by gently pressing his lips to mine. "How was your night?"

Pushing my lower lip out into a playful pout, I sigh. "Lonely . . . But things are starting to look up."

Edward chuckles breathily when I press my lips to his neck, working my way up and along his jaw. "Well, if we don't head out now, there'll be a hell of a lot more things 'looking up.'"

I nibble on his ear lobe. "Who says that's not on my itinerary?"

"Bella." His voice is low and gruff, a warning that he's on the verge of losing control, and I take delight in my triumph. "We really don't have time."

"Just give me three minutes," I tell him. "I promise it'll be the best three minutes of your existence." And, with that, I hear him lock the deadbolt behind his back before he grabs my ass, lifting me off the ground so my feet dangle, and carries me to the bed.

Of course, three minutes turns into thirty awfully quick, but neither one of us seem too saddened by this fact. We're too caught up in each other to really care, quite honestly, and I lose all sense of time as his hands explore my skin. His lips and teeth follow the path his hands make over my body as he strips both of us naked and takes me in almost every way imaginable. Once both of us are satiated for the moment and breathing heavily through the wake of our orgasms, we hop in the shower. Naturally, this brings on a round of hot and steamy shower sex where Edward has my back pressed against the cool tile wall and my legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he thrusts into me until I'm screaming out his name. Say goodbye to another thirty minutes on the clock

If we keep this up, we won't be arriving at my dad's until sometime late tonight. This means we'd miss Dad's Christmas Eve party, and I'd hate to risk that considering we've been throwing it together for as long as I can remember.

We get dressed and head down to the car after peeling ourselves away from each other. I wish I could say this was merely a figure of speech, but considering we'd just spent the last hour with our sweaty bodies pressed so tightly together that not even a breeze could pass between us, I'd say it's a fairly accurate description.

Once we're out of the city, and Edward doesn't have to shift gears every time we hit a red light, he takes my hand in his; apparently he's going to take advantage of being in contact with me right up until we hit that Forks sign, too. Gotta love him.

"So, did your dad tell you that Sue and her kids would be joining us?" Edward asks once we hit the highway.

Smiling, I lean my head back on the headrest and stare at him. "I figured as much," I reply. "It's been obvious for some time that he's had feelings for Sue. I think it's great."

"Yeah, my sister will be happy," Edward announces. "She's been saying for a while now that they're perfect for each other. She'll be thrilled when she sees them together."

I snap out of my ogle-fest and lift my head, the very real possibility of our not being able to keep this secret finally coming to light. "Alice is coming tonight." It's not a question, because I already knew this since Dad had told me he was inviting her.

"Yeah, but you already knew that, sweetheart," Edward says, confused.

Don't get me wrong; I love Alice. She's the best. She's always taken me shopping, and she was there for me through my teen years when I had questions about sex and boys. Mom and Dad split up when I was seven. Neither one of them harboured any ill-will toward the other, and everything was pretty amicable, right down to who retained custody of me. They'd presented me with my options—Forks with Dad or Phoenix with Mom—and I made my choice to live with Dad in Forks, visiting Mom whenever school would allow for it. I'd heard stories growing up about parents who split up, and it all sounded so . . . ugly. Even watching Edward and Tanya go through this—without children, even—makes me so thankful that my parents were both grown-up enough to admit they just weren't meant to be together forever.

They're both happy now, and that's all that matters.

Because I was so young when they divorced, my mom wasn't around to talk with me about sex and boys when I was ready. Sure, my dad tried to be all "hip and happening" (his words, not mine), but there was just something deeply disturbing about your dad trying to have "the talk" with you. That's where Alice came in.

She's always been deeply intuitive about what's happening around her, and this is what worries me. I don't know how she does it, but she's always been able to read me like a book, asking about the boy I'm seeing before I've even told her I've met someone.

And now she's going to be at my dad's house. With Edward and me. Who are together.

We're so screwed.

"She's going to figure it out," I inform him, panic rolling around in my stomach and making me more than a little uneasy. "She'll know something's up. She'll say something."

Sensing my panic, Edward pulls the car over onto the shoulder of the highway, putting his hazard lights on before turning to me. "Hey, hey, hey," he soothes. "Everything is going to be fine."

Sadly, I don't hear his words of assurance right away. Various scenes of how Dad might find out and react play out in my mind instead. "We were fools to think we'd get away with this. We should have just told him a few weeks ago. He could have been okay with it by now." Realistically, I'm not entirely sure I believe this myself, but I know that if he finds out now, it'll ruin his Christmas and possibly sour the holiday for him altogether. What have I done?

"Bella, listen to me," Edward says, reaching over and forcing my eyes to his. Once they lock, I feel a small wave of calm wash over me, and I exhale slowly. "Yes, she'll probably _suspect_ you're seeing someone—and she's already told me she suspects as much with me—but if we go about like everything is normal between us, that's as far as she'll get." He pauses, his thumb moving along my jaw soothingly. "But, we can tell him when we get there, if you want."

The calming tone of his voice continues to soothe me, my rationality returns, and I shake my head. "No . . . I mean, yes, I _want_ to tell him. Keeping something this big from him is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But I just don't think telling him now is a good idea." I second-guess myself again, so I ask, "Do you? You've known him way longer, and in a way I don't. Am I wrong?"

Edward's expression turns sombre, and he shrugs. "It's tough to say. I definitely think that if he finds out on his own, it could be so much worse than if we just tell him. But I don't think you're wrong in wanting to wait until the New Year. He's got so much planned over the next few days, and there'll always be company over. We need to tell him alone . . ." Edward pauses, and then adds on, "And when he's not so close to any of his weapons."

I laugh, and when Edward's eyes soften, I know this was the reaction he was hoping for. "So we stick to the plan," I say, feeling a little bit of my confidence in our decision returning.

Once things have been resolved, Edward puts the car in gear and we pull back out onto the highway when it's safe. Because we're already running a little behind, Edward decides to drive a little over the speed limit. The roads aren't so bad, and there's very little traffic in our way, so we figure it'll be pretty smooth sailing.

Until we see the flashing red and blue lights in our rearview window.

It would figure that an hour and a half away from our destination would have Washington State's finest pulling us over. Edward puts the car into park and rolls his window down, waiting for the cop behind us to approach. He grabs his license from his wallet and his registration from the glove box, having it ready for when it's requested.

The crunch of gravel and snow outside is heard as the highway patrol officer approaches, and then he's right outside Edward's window, leaning over and peering inside. "License and registration, please." Edward hands it to him, and the officer thanks him. "So, where are you headed to in such a rush, Mr. Cullen?"

"Forks, Officer," Edward replies respectfully.

The officer peers into the car, his eyes catching mine. "Speeding sets a bad example for your daughter there, don't you think?"

Inhaling sharply, my eyes widen in shock as they move to Edward. He's still facing the officer, but I can see that the man's assumption bothers him by the way his jaw clenches as he reaches for his ID and the ticket. But when he fails to correct the officer, I step up.

"He's _not_ my father, actually." Sure, I could probably be a little more polite, but I'm mildly insulted. How dare he just assume this? Yes, there's a definite age gap between us, but it's not like our situation is entirely uncommon. Maybe girls don't go around seducing their father's best friends on a regular basis—or maybe they do, I don't know—but it's not like a twenty-plus-year age gap is unheard of. I mean, you can even pick up any celeb magazine and see a laundry list of names in a similar situation.

Celebs; they're just like us, indeed.

The officer continues to look between us, possibly trying to figure out the nature of our relationship. Unable to take his scrutinizing gaze anymore, I reach over and take Edward's hand in mine, being sure to go that extra mile and thread our fingers together. It's a brazen move that I'm not sure will be fully embraced by Edward, but I want the officer to eat his words.

Never one to disappoint, Edward turns to me and smiles—and not one of those shit-eating grins like we've just put this presumptuous officer in his place, but one that I've grown accustomed to seeing on an almost daily basis these last few weeks. This is my smile, and it's full of admiration as it reaches his eyes. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it, my cheeks warming slightly.

The second realization crosses the officer's face, he clears his throat, and we turn our attention back to him. "My apologies," he tells us, his voice nervous but sincere. "Just, uh, pay attention to the posted speed limits."

"Of course, Officer," Edward agrees, sounding somewhat smug now. "Won't happen again."

Once the officer is back in his cruiser and he pulls back out onto the highway, Edward follows suit, and I pick up the ticket. It's not too bad, but I offer to pay for half since we're road trip buddies. After a lot of his "no, you're nots" versus my "yes, I ams," I win.

"That officer was a dick," I blurt out, putting the ticket and Edward's registration in his glove box so we don't misplace them.

"Maybe, but it was an honest mistake," he replies, defending the officer. "I mean, I _am_ the same age as your father."

I know he's right, but I'm still pissed, and I can tell he is, too; he's just trying a lot harder than I am not to dwell on it. Maybe I should follow his lead.

We change the topic of conversation back to the party tonight. I'm excited to see everyone again, even though it's only been a few weeks since I saw most of them at Thanksgiving. And while Alice and Jasper both live in Seattle, too, it's rare I ever see them with our schedules never lining up.

The remainder of the trip goes by pretty quickly, and when we slip by the "Welcome to Forks" sign, Edward and I break our rule. But only for a couple extra minutes. Can we really be faulted? We're going to have to spend several days without any major contact, so what's a little hand-holding?

By the time we roll to a stop outside Dad's house at two, we're feeling pretty good about the plan. Or, as good as can be expected. Sue's car is already parked next to Dad's cruiser, and the Blacks are here, also. Other than Alice and Jasper, I'm not sure who else Dad's invited tonight, but I know he usually likes to go all out at Christmas time. It's his favourite time of year—hence why I can't risk him finding out about Edward and me right now.

Edward shuts the car off, and I look toward the house, taking several deep, calming breaths. I tell myself over and over again that everything will be fine. I feel a light touch on my shoulder—an innocent touch that's not uncommon between the two of us—and I look over at Edward. He looks just as nervous as I am.

"You ready?" he asks.

Smiling, I nod and unclip my seatbelt. "About as ready as I'll ever be."

We grab our bags from the trunk of his car and head up the front steps together. I take one last steeling breath and push the door open. Dad's got all the decorations up, a fire roaring in the fireplace, and the tree in the living room right in front of the big window, covered in a variety of store-bought as well as hand-made (by me) ornaments that we'd acquired over the years. I take a second to let the nostalgia of the holiday pour over me, but it's short-lived as everyone emerges. Jake takes our bags from us and sets them down near the stairs, while Seth and Leah both chatter on a mile a minute about everything they've been doing to get ready for tonight. Sue steps forward, wrapping me in her warm embrace before Billy takes a turn, and then finally my dad. I hug him just a little bit longer than everyone else because I miss him that much more.

"You guys are late," Dad says, looking between Edward and me.

Before he can ask why and force me to lie—poorly, I might add—I shrug. "Sorry. My fault. I had a few last minute things to do." What? It's not an outright lie. I did have things to do if I was going to successfully keep my hands to myself over the next few days.

"No worries," Dad assures me. "Seth, Leah, and Jake have been very helpful."

I run my things upstairs to my room, and when I turn around after hanging the garment bag in my closet, I'm surprised to see Edward in the doorway. "What are you doing up here?" I ask in a hushed tone.

He sets his bag down next to the door and smiles. He's not staying in here, is he? I mean, that would be awesome, but would make our plan harder to stick to. "Your dad said I should stash my things up here. He doesn't want them in the way once everyone else arrives."

Disappointment floods my veins, and I nod. "Right. Makes sense."

Reading my expression, he smirks slyly. "What did you think was happening?"

The deep tenor of his low voice sends a quiver beneath my skin. "I figured maybe Dad was so oblivious he was going to make us bunk together. That, or he figured it out and is just _that _much cooler about it than I thought he'd be."

Edward laughs, and I can see that he wants to reach out for me. I want this too, but I know it can only lead to one conclusion, so I look away and run my fingers through my hair. "We should head down and help set up for the party."

Edward stays in the doorway, and as I brush past him, he lightly grabs my arm, his thumb gliding over the crook of my elbow slowly. That same familiar charge of desire shoots through me, and I look up into his deep green eyes, breathing deeply. He's far enough away that anyone who'd come upon our exchange might not suspect more than a regular conversation between us, but close enough that I can feel the heat of his body and the warmth of his breath on my skin.

"This isn't how I wanted us to spend our first Christmas together," he whispers, his eyes moving between mine, shining with remorse.

Smiling in an effort to mask the desire I feel in such a close proximity, I shrug. "It's hardly our first." Pausing, I decide that if he can break the rules and make me feel all warm and fuzzy—even if he doesn't realize he's doing it—then so can I. Leaning in as close as I can without running the risk of throwing myself at him, I tilt my face up to his ear and whisper, "And it won't be our last. We can celebrate the way you'd envisioned when we get back to the city." I remove myself from the door and turn back to him as he stands there, stunned. "You coming?"

His eyes widen, and I laugh when I realize my dirty double entendre. "Not what I meant, but also a good question, I suppose."

"You're not going to make these next few days easy, are you?" he asks, his expression telling me that he might just be up to the challenge.

"I'm not trying to make this difficult, I swear," I assure him honestly, holding back a laugh that could draw attention to us, even up here. "I promise I'll be on my best behaviour from here on out, okay?"

Once we agree on reinstating the rules—not that we _really _broke them all that badly—we head back downstairs to help with the party preparations. Turns out, Sue had been busy all morning preparing the food, leaving a few things for me to do since they were, as my dad told her, my specialty. It was a tray of homemade, no-bake treats. I swear a monkey could make them if they followed the recipe cards. But Sue agreed to leave them for me while she got the rest of the food together.

While we work together in the kitchen, Dad and Edward head out to the liquor store for the beer, wine, and various hard liquors we'll need tonight. It suddenly occurs to me that Edward and I should have probably set a drink max. The last time the two of us were wasted, we'd unknowingly messed around in our sleep. I'll have to talk to him when he gets back. If we can find a moment alone together.

When they return, they grab the folding tables from the basement and set them up in the living room so we can lay out all the food and drinks. I begin to realize that maybe Edward and I didn't have to worry so much about this because we've both been so damn busy since arriving that we've barely even looked at each other, let alone talked.

Once my platter of goodies is ready, I take them into the living room to put them on one of the tables against the wall, stopping dead in my tracks when I see Dad and Sue canoodling on the couch. It's not something I expected to walk in on, but it's not completely surprising, either, considering the flirting they've done the last two years.

They don't notice me at first, but then again, I don't stand there and stare for more than a split second before I go back to my task of putting the plate out. Dad must hear it hit the table, because he turns around to look at me, his arm still casually draped around Sue as though it's the most natural thing in the world, while she laughs into his shoulder about something.

"Hey, Bells. How's everything going?"

"Good," I tell him. "Everything's going really well. You two go back to . . . whatever it is you were talking about." I offer them a big smile that tells them I'm more than happy for the both of them. And I am . . . but I'm also kind of hoping Dad will remember this moment and take it into consideration when Edward and I finally tell him about us. I won't put too much stock into that idea, but I can hold onto a little bit of hope for the very slight possibility.

It's almost seven o'clock when I run upstairs to change into the red dress I bought for the party tonight. While we're pretty laid back most of the time, we like to dress up for our Christmas parties. I always buy a new dress for the occasion, and this year, I may have spent a little more than I normally would. But only because this year I have someone I'm dressing up for—even though no one else knows this. I lock my bedroom door and strip down, pulling the red chiffon dress from the garment bag I'd hung in my closet. I pull it on, putting the slightly off-shoulder straps in place. I'd bought the dress, not only because it hugged my upper body all the way down to my hips before it flowed out in a soft A-line skirt to my knees. The neckline was high enough it wasn't trashy, sloping into a very shallow scoop that sat against my chest while showing off the lines of my collarbone and shoulders. It's a classy dress, and I have a feeling that Edward is going to lose his mind.

Which, in hindsight, I'm starting to think, maybe, this isn't the best time to test that theory. Shit.

It's too late, now; it's the only dress I have here, and every other piece of clothing is far too casual for tonight. It'll have to do. I'll apologize to him later if I have to. After getting dressed, I pull my hair away from my face, save for a few face-framing tendrils that refuse to cooperate, but they look all right, so I leave them instead of fighting an impossible battle. I've never been a big makeup wearer, usually only bothering with the basics, but tonight, I apply eye shadow for a dramatic smoky-eye effect and a red-tinted lip gloss. Once I've finished up, I smooth the lines of my dress one last time and look in the mirror before grabbing the solid black pumps I brought along. I'm just pulling the second shoe on when there's a light knock on my door.

"Bella, it's me," Edward calls softly through the door. "I just need my things so I can get ready."

Smiling, I swing the door open to let him in. His eyes widen as they travel down my body, and he inhales a slightly ragged breath. "You look . . . that dress . . ." He's at a loss for words; score one for me. And also, crap, because, while I'm thoroughly enjoying his reaction, I still worry that the dress is a mistake when it comes to keeping our secret.

"Thanks," I say, a soft blush filling my cheeks.

His eyes snap back to mine, full of seriousness and desire. "No, really," he says, lowering his voice. "Wow."

I can see that he wants to kiss me—I want that, too—but before either of us gets swept up in the moment, I grab his things and hold them up between us. "Here's your stuff. I'm done with the room, so please feel free to change in here."

As I descend the stairs to the main floor, I feel Edward's eyes on me for a few seconds, and I shoot him a quick glance over my shoulder before my door clicks shut. Part of me regrets us not manning up and telling Dad about us right after Thanksgiving, because maybe things would be different tonight. Maybe Dad would let us bunk together (doubtful), and maybe he'd look at us and smile as I looped my arm through Edward's and laughed at all his jokes (ha!). Deep down, I know that had we told him after Thanksgiving, the possibility of tonight even happening would be low, but I'm still curious about the "what ifs."

I give the food and beverage tables another once-over as the doorbell rings, signalling the arrival of the first few guests. Dad's invited a few of his coworkers who I've only met a couple of times, and Sue's invited her sister and her family, as well as a few people from her workplace. The Newtons show up minus their son, Mike, who's at his girlfriend's parents' house tonight. The Stanleys were invited but couldn't make it, which I already knew because Jess wouldn't stop talking about her Christmas in Mexico. Was I jealous? Maybe a little at first, but not enough to want to give up my yearly tradition with my dad.

Dad turns on the music as the doorbell rings again, and I offer to answer it. I don't even contain my squeal of excitement when I open the door to find Alice and Jasper there, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into the house.

"Alice! It's so good to see you!" I momentarily forget how nervous I was to have her here, instead letting my excitement take over.

She returns my embrace, laughing. "It's nice to see you, too, Bella. We really do need to make a habit of seeing each other more than a few times a year. How've you been?"

We pull apart, and she shrugs her jacket off, handing it to a waiting Jasper. Slowly, her eyebrows knit together and her dark brown eyes search mine carefully. Just like that, my nerves return full force, and I squirm like a worm on a hook under her scrutinizing stare. "I've, uh, been good. You?"

Then, out of nowhere, her expression changes from curious to excited. "You've met someone!" she squeals, drawing the attention of a few guests. Including my dad. "You're going to tell me everything!"

"Tell you everything about what?"

I turn toward the sound of Edward's voice, and practically combust upon seeing him dressed in a nice pair of jeans, white dress shirt, and red tie. He looks positively lickable, and I struggle to keep my composure. Aside from wanting to devour him, the first thing to go through my crazy mind is that we match. Unknowingly, we'd coordinated our wardrobes.

"About the guy she's been seeing," Alice chirps.

Her reply catches him off guard, and I don't know what I expect his reaction to be, but it sure as hell isn't slipping on the stair and stumbling slightly. He manages to catch himself, but not before both Alice and I gasp and reach out for him.

He laughs it off, his face reddening a little, and runs his hands through his hair. "Man, that last step came out of nowhere, huh?" He slaps his hands together, a look of resolve on his face as he sets out to change the topic. "Now, who wants a drink?"

_Shit._ I still need to talk to him about us not drinking too much. I look around at all the guests and decide that a couple now can't hurt, so I follow him as he leads Alice and Jasper to the living room to get them set up.

With my glass of red wine in-hand, I go around the room and mingle. Naturally, I catch both Seth and Jake with a couple bottles of beer and have to take them away. It's not that I'm entirely innocent when it comes to having a good time before the ripe old age of twenty-one, but if my dad were to catch them . . . well, shit would hit the fan. We can't condone underage drinking in the home of the police chief. It just can't happen.

After talking with the Newtons, I migrate my way back to where Dad and Sue are talking with Edward, Jasper, and Alice by the Christmas tree. Edward looks uncomfortable, and naturally, my curiosity piques. I slip between Dad and Alice, standing across their little circle from Edward and shooting him a quick smile.

"What're we talking about?" I ask, taking a sip of my second glass of wine. My arms and legs have that delightful warmth running through them, signalling that I'm well on my way to being a little bit drunk, and my head feels only slightly fuzzy.

Dad barks a laugh, and Edward inhales deeply. The look in his eyes as he averts them tells me that he wishes this conversation would be over, and I don't understand his reaction until my dad opens his mouth. "Remember when I was in the city a few weeks ago? Well, after I went to your place to find you'd gone out, I decided to stop by Edward's place to see if he wanted to go for dinner . . ."

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck._

". . . and I'd arrived at the _worst_ possible time. Apparently he's met someone."

"Not apparently," Alice piped up, making Edward groan and my palms sweat around my glass. "I've noticed he's been acting differently, but he refuses to say anything about her."

I repeat: _oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck._

I glance around the room, trying to remain nonchalant about all of this, but my heart pounds like a jackhammer against my ribs, and my mouth feels like it's full of cotton balls. Not even finishing my wine seems to be helping. When my eyes catch Jasper's, I smile weakly, but he eyes me almost as intensely as Alice had earlier, so I decide to throw them off. Or, I hope that's what I do.

"Well, who is she?" I ask, really hoping that no one notices the tremble in my voice.

Edward's gaze snaps to mine so hard, I fear he might get whiplash. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, it's been a few weeks, right? Is it serious?" I'm not saying any of this in hopes he'll answer, I just don't think that my remaining silent on the matter will help us keep the fact that I'm his mystery woman a secret.

"Serious . . ." he says, almost uncertain if this is something he should attempt to dance around. "I suppose it's showing promise."

Dad laughs, taking a swig of his beer. "Well, you should have brought her! I think it's safe to say we're all curious to meet her."

I can honestly say that I'm not. I already know she's awesome.

Looking down into his glass of scotch, he exhales a breathy laugh, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling. "She's celebrating the holidays with her dad, actually."

Oh, he's fucking hilarious. A regular stand-up comedian, this guy is.

"And what about you?" Alice says, nudging me with her elbow. "I suspected you were seeing someone, and your dad told me I was right."

I narrow my eyes in my dad's direction. "Oh, did he, now? And what exactly did he say?"

Dad tries to backpedal his way out of this. "Hey, I only told them that I ran into your neighbour the night I was in the city and he told me you were seeing someone."

"An _older_ someone," Alice amends, causing Dad to grimace. Not a good sign for when I tell him about Edward and me, but we'll jump off that bridge when we come to it. "So, is it true?"

"I . . . um . . ." Stammering isn't a good sign, but it's all I've got. If I lie, they'll all see through it. "Well . . . yes?"

Fuck. I don't think I meant to say that out loud. This brings on a bout of nervous rambling.

"He's really great, and I know you'd all really like him." Dad doesn't look so sure, but I know he's wrong. In fact, he's known him longer than I have, so it's not like he can say that Edward's a bad guy, right? Yeah, let's go with that.

"How much older?" Dad asks, his tone serious, all signs of his earlier joking with Edward gone.

Double fuck.

"Does that matter?" I ask. "I mean, if I'm happy, what does age really have to do with it?"

"It matters," Dad says, emphasizing his words, "because he could be taking advantage of you."

"Charlie, stop," Edward says, and I can hear by the tone he uses that he's trying not to be insulted by my dad's assumptions.

"He's not," I tell my dad, my voice low and harsh.

Dad looks across at Edward and shakes his head. "I won't stop. This guy can't find a woman his own age, so he heads out and manipulates young girls? _My_ daughter?"

I roll my eyes at his stupid double standards. I guaran-damn-tee you that if it came out that Edward was dating a much younger woman, Dad would be high-fiving the shit out of him. How do I know this? Because of his previous advice to go out and find some "hot young thing to help him forget about Tanya." But because it's _me_ dating an older guy, it's all of a sudden forbidden and the guy is "taking advantage of me."

Whatever.

Before I can let my simmering anger, or this conversation, escalate to a full-out raging boil, I force a smile and excuse myself. I head over to the table that houses all the booze and find that the wine bottles are empty. Knowing that Dad has a spare fridge in the basement where he stored the alcohol because the one in the kitchen is full, I head down there.

I grab a bottle of wine and set it on the counter, not quite ready to go back upstairs yet. It's quiet down here—a little cool, sure, but I'm okay with that. I'm far enough away from everyone that I can let my dad's words roll off my back and get a hold of my emotions. I know he doesn't mean to be an asshole, and I'm sure this is the last conversation he'd wanted to have during the holidays. But it's out there now, and I handled it as best I could.

"Hey." Even though his tone is soft, concerned, it still startles the hell out of me, and I jump.

"Edward," I say, breathless, as I slap a hand over my fluttering heart. "You scared me. I didn't hear you come down here."

"Sorry," he says, stepping closer to me as I lean against the washing machine across the small room from the spare fridge. "You okay? What he said . . ."

"Was complete bullshit," I finish for him. "I'm not . . . You would never . . ." Apparently I'm still pretty upset about this, and I struggle to breathe through my rising anxiety.

"Never," is all he has to say, and I'm instantly reassured. "He just . . . he worries, Bella. I get that."

"Fine," I agree. "I get it, too. But if you were out there boning some hard-bodied twenty-year-old—"

Edward laughs, distracting me for a minute before he interjects, "Which I am, remember."

Unable to keep the stupid smile from my face, I roll my eyes. "Okay, fine . . . but if he knew that—without knowing _who_ she was—you'd be a fucking hero. What the hell kind of logic is that?"

"Guy logic. _Dad_ logic."

"It's stupid."

Edward steps closer, so close I can feel his warmth and smell his cologne. I want him to pull me in his arms and make this all go away. But we can't . . . can we? I reach out for his hand, and he takes it without a second thought.

"I realize it doesn't make any sense, sweetheart." His thumb moves back and forth over the back of my hand in its usual soothing way. "But we'll do whatever we can to make him understand. Okay?"

I nod, stepping closer to him without thinking, and I place my other hand on his hip. I know I shouldn't, and something in my brain tells me to back the fuck away, but I just can't. I need to be near him right now as much as I need air to breathe.

At least, that's how it feels.

Edward must feel the same way, because his free hand comes up and cradles my jaw tenderly, his long fingers teasing the short hairs at the nape of my neck as he leans down to brush his lips over mine.

"I know we shouldn't," he whispers, his warm breath tickling my skin, "but I just can't help myself."

"Good," I tell him, pressing my mouth to his firmly before either one of us comes to our senses.

It doesn't take long before we're completely lost to each other again. Edward's tongue slides along my lower lip, and I sigh, giving him just enough room to slip past it. I can taste the scotch on his tongue as it sweeps over mine, his fingers curling behind my neck to hold me close. I loop my fingers into the waist of his pants, pulling him forward to deepen our kiss and fully welcome him into my embrace. He doesn't try to pull away; in fact, he goes with the momentum of the movement until he's got me pressed hard up against the washer.

Something in the recesses of my brain screams at me to end this before it gets out of hand. I choose not to hear it, my desperation to be reassured of Edward's intentions winning out and making it sound like no more than a whisper that eventually fades into nothingness.

It's clear he's just as anxious to show me how he really feels as his hands move to my ass and he lifts me onto the washer, pushing himself between my legs. My skin feels like it's on fire as his hands move down my thighs to the hemline of my dress, and I tremble when they slip beneath the soft fabric and begin to push it up toward my hips.

The second his fingers hook into the sides of my panties and tug—too light to be removing them, but hard enough to make the pulse between my legs intensify—I throw my head back and moan. "Oh, god. Edward . . ."

He kisses his way down the column of my throat and along my collarbone, and my heartbeat grows louder and louder with every pass of his warm lips.

_Thump thump thump._

Growling, he tugs on my panties again, forcing me closer to his body until I can feel his erection pressing against me.

_Thump thump thump._

I'm about to beg him to never stop when I realize the pulse in my veins doesn't match the one I'm hearing in my ears, but when he tugs on my panties again, I forget all about it.

Right up until I hear, "What the hell is going on down here?"

* * *

**A/N2: I know, I know . . . ANOTHER cliffie. **

**I'm curious to hear who you all think it is! Since they're at a Christmas party with a huge group of people, it could really be ANYONE! So, who do YOU think it is?**

**Remember, Forgive me, Father has been nominated to be one of the top five Fics of the Week over on the Lemonade Stand! Please go and check out all of the other AMAZING entries and vote for your favourite ones! **

**WWW tehlemonadestand COM**

**Until next time!**

**xoxox**


	7. The Truth

**Disclaimer:** Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.

**Rated for serious (not really) adult content and language.**

**WARNING: **This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing.

**A/N: Okay, so I left you with not one, but TWO pretty evil cliffies last week between FMF and RwaV. I'd apologize, but that's just the way the cock blocks ;)**

**Also, _Forgive me, Father, for I will Sin _was one of the top five stories for Fic of the Week over on The Lemonade Stand! How exciting! Thanks to all who voted!**

* * *

**Chapter 7 | The Truth**

When we'd first arrived in Forks, I didn't foresee any of this happening. Sure, I knew that Bella and I would have more than our fair share of difficulty covering our relationship up, but we were both confident that we would succeed. Did I expect the topic of conversation to focus on the woman I'd been seeing? No, I can honestly say I didn't. I mean, I suppose I expected someone to say something, but to have it brought up while surrounded by everyone was a bit unexpected.

What I expected even _less_ was for Bella to be blind-sided about our relationship.

Alice bringing it up hadn't been a malicious act; I think she was genuinely curious and happy for Bella. At least, this is what I hope, because I'd like for my younger sister to approve of our relationship.

I don't think Charlie ever meant to ask Bella about the guy she's seeing in front of everyone, but he did, and when he mentioned that she was being taken advantage of . . . well, I didn't take too kindly to that. I wanted to set him straight. To tell him that I would _never_ take advantage of her. That I was _in love_ with his daughter.

But I couldn't. Not if I wanted to avoid an all-out brawl in the middle of his living room. So, instead, I tried to keep my voice as even as possible and asked him to end the interrogation, even though I could feel my blood beginning to boil. He was off duty; he didn't need to play bad cop right now. Especially with his daughter.

Bella was hurt, though. I could see it in her eyes as she forced a smile and excused herself from the group without another word on the subject. Alice looked at me apologetically—not because she knew about us, but because she didn't mean to cause an argument—and Charlie sighed, clearly upset with himself.

He'd offered to go talk to her, but Sue gently suggested he leave her for a few minutes, telling him that Bella needed a little "girl time" to process things. I knew otherwise, though. What Bella needed was to be reassured of us. And I needed to reassure her as much as she needed to hear it.

I waited a few minutes before excusing myself to use the washroom, and when no one was looking, I bypassed the stairs and headed for the basement door instead. I never meant for things to escalate as far as they did between us. All I knew was one minute, I was telling Bella that I wasn't taking advantage of her, and the next I was kissing her, throwing her on top of the washing machine, and sliding my hands up the skirt of her dress.

I knew I should stop—even tried telling myself to step away several times—before it got to the point of no return, but we'd already passed it. More than once.

There was one thing that could stop us, though. One thing we wanted to avoid more than anything during our stay here, and it happened: we were found out.

"What the hell is going on down here?"

Bella inhales sharply, and I remove my lips from her neck as she meets my startled gaze, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. We both recognize the voice but are too stunned, having been ripped back to the reality of the situation, to visually confirm her presence.

Once Bella fully realizes the weight of what's happened, she drops her hands to my chest and pushes, hopping off of the washer and adjusting her dress as she rushes toward the stairs. My eyes follow her and land on a very surprised and confused Sue Clearwater staring between the two of us with wide-open eyes.

"I-I came down to check on Bella," Sue tries to explain. "Figured she'd need someone to talk to. Definitely didn't expect to walk in on . . ." Most people who walk in on a scene like this would sound apologetic, but Sue doesn't; she sounds upset.

"Sue, I can explain," Bella says pleadingly, her voice quivering with fear.

"Oh, I think I understand." Sue looks past Bella at me, and I stop in my tracks, a healthy distance from both of them as she shifts her gaze back. "Your dad—"

"We're going to tell him," Bella interrupts desperately. "We were just waiting until the right time. Th-this wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did." Sue shakes her head and heads back upstairs.

"Wait, Sue . . . _Please!_" Bella's voice is strained as she calls after Sue, chasing her up the stairs and reaching for her. "You can't tell him. N-not today."

Sue whirls around at the top of the stairs and looks Bella straight in the eye. "You want me to lie to your father?"

"Not lie," I interject carefully, quietly.

Bella decides to finish explaining, letting me off the hook. "We were going to tell him after Christmas. You know how much this time of year means to him. We couldn't risk upsetting him now. This—what you walked in on just now—wasn't supposed to happen. We weren't . . . and then everyone was . . . it just . . ." She sighs, defeated. "It wasn't supposed to happen. We . . . we slipped up for a brief moment."

Bella exhales loudly, pressing her hands together in front of her. "I know you don't owe me a damn thing, but I'm begging you. We'll tell him, I swear. We just need a little more time."

Sue seems to weigh everything we've told her, and while she still doesn't seem particularly keen to the idea, her posture softens, conceding to our request. "Fine." She raises her gaze, her determination obvious, and points a finger at Bella, then down to the foot of the stairs where I still stand. "You have until the first week of January to tell him . . . or I will."

"Thank you, Sue." Bella smiles weakly, grateful.

Sue meets Bella's appreciation with a shake of her head. "I'm not doing this for you," she informs us both. "I'm doing this because I care about him, and I don't want to see him upset right now. You're just lucky it was me who offered to come down here in his place. I shudder to think what would have happened had he walked in on the two of you carrying on like that. I suggest you figure out a way to keep it from happening again, because next time . . ." She lets her threat hang there before turning on her heel and stepping through the basement door, leaving Bella and me alone.

I slowly climb the stairs and reach for Bella's hand—not in any way that would imply intimacy, but just in an attempt to comfort her. She pulls away, though, shooting me a remorseful look.

"Sorry," she whispers. "I want nothing more than for you to wrap your arms around me and tell me that we didn't just mess everything up, but I'm afraid of what I might do once I'm there. And Sue's right. We need to make sure that doesn't happen again. What we did was . . ." She pauses, and I suspect she's trying to find a way to call it a mistake without saying she regrets that it happened, because she doesn't; I can see it in her expressive brown eyes. "Well, it just can't happen again while we're here."

"I understand," I tell her, standing next to her and giving her hand a quick and gentle squeeze. "You go first. I'll be right out."

Nodding, Bella opens the basement door and steps outside. From what I can see, no one is hanging around the door, and she leaves it open just a crack so I can slip out in a few minutes. I use my time alone to inwardly chastise myself for being so careless. All we had to do was get through a few days without something like this happening, and we couldn't even last twelve hours. Sure, I'd figured since we were hidden away in the basement that one stolen moment would go unnoticed, but I should have known better with all these people here tonight. Especially with how upset Bella had been; someone was bound to check on her sooner or later, and Sue was right to say we were lucky it wasn't Charlie.

Certain that the coast is still clear, I emerge from the basement, but instead of heading to the party, I turn for the kitchen, still not ready to face Sue or Charlie.

Well, at least I avoid one out of the two.

As I round the corner leading to the kitchen, I find Bella and Charlie standing at the island. I stay back and out of sight, silently watching them. Bella's leaning over the counter, her eyes downcast and one leg bent casually as she picks at a cocktail napkin. Charlie stands next to her, facing her with his arms crossed in front of him. His posture reads relaxed, so I don't get the feeling he's getting mad at her, and my assumptions are confirmed when he speaks.

"I really am sorry, kiddo," he tells her. "I didn't mean to upset you like that. I just . . . I worry about you all alone in the city."

Bella huffs, crumpling the napkin and then flattening it again. "I know you worry, but you don't have to."

"Bells," Charlie says, "You're my little girl. I'll always worry."

I feel guilty listening in on their conversation, but my curiosity keeps my feet planted firmly in place.

Bella drops the mangled napkin and stands up straight, turning toward her dad. "Well, worry a little less intensely, all right?" She smiles as he reaches for her and pulls her into a hug, her arms wrapping around his middle.

And just like that, all is almost right in the world. It would appear that Charlie is still in the dark—for now—and that he and Bella have made amends. Of course, I still feel shitty that I'd allowed us to almost compromise everything.

"There you are!" Alice says from behind me. When I turn around, I find her smiling up at me. "Where've you been?"

"Around," I tell her.

"Have you seen Bella?" she asks quietly. "I want to apologize to her for earlier. When Charlie brought up the fact that she was seeing someone older, he didn't imply that it was such a big deal. Or maybe I just didn't pick up on it."

"You shouldn't feel bad," I tell her honestly. "You couldn't have foreseen the outcome of that." I tilt my head toward the kitchen. "I saw her in there with Charlie a minute ago."

"Thanks." She takes a couple of steps and then stops, turning back to me, her eyebrows pulled together with concern as her eyes move between mine. "You okay? You seem . . . I don't know. Off."

Sighing, I nod. "I'm fine. Really."

Alice smirks, nudging me with her elbow. "You missing your girlfriend?"

I laugh, running my fingers through my hair. Her question is both ridiculous and accurate. While Bella and I are in the same house, I do miss being able to say whatever I want to her or hold her whenever the mood strikes. So, yeah, I guess you could say I miss her. "Something like that."

"Well, chin up. I'm sure you'll talk to her before the night is over."

She's not wrong, but I won't be able to say the things I want to say. As Alice continues on toward the kitchen in search of Bella, I head back to the party in the living room. Walking to the table, I grab another drink and a plate of food, and when I turn around, I catch Sue looking at me from across the room. It's not in her nature to be this upset, but I can't fault her for it. We've put her in an impossible situation, and while I'm grateful she's giving us the opportunity to tell Charlie ourselves, I also hate that we've asked this of her.

I offer Sue a smile, but the one she returns to me is both strained and awkward before she turns away and begins talking to another guest. Seems about right, don't you think?

As the night wears on, it's as though nothing's happened; no one is any wiser, save for the three who know otherwise, and by the time the last guest says goodnight, it's well after midnight and we're all beat. Sue and the kids stay to help clean up before saying goodnight to all of us—my farewell from Sue being a little more clipped than the others, but I suppose that's to be expected. After they're gone, I take the last of the empty wine bottles to the kitchen and find Bella standing at the sink washing dishes.

"I'm sure those can wait until morning," I tell her, startling her. Perhaps I should start walking louder or wear a bell; she's so easily surprised.

"You really need to stop doing that," she tells me with a laugh, her voice calm and steady as though nothing happened tonight. Then she shakes her head as though remembering and she refocuses all of her attention on the dishes. "There's only a few more left. I'd rather have them done so I don't have to worry about them in the morning."

I walk farther into the kitchen and snatch the dishtowel off the oven handle and stand beside her, reaching for one of the recently washed and rinsed dishes. "Then allow me to help."

I notice Bella furrow her eyebrows and press her lips together tightly. "It's really not necessary," she breathes softly. "There's only a few."

"Bella," I reply, "the sooner we can get this done, the sooner we can head off to bed."

Bella's posture stiffens, and I suddenly realize what it is I said. "Shit," I mumble, drying the dish. "You know that's not what I . . . I just meant that it's late, and we're all exhausted."

"I know." Her voice is low, soft.

"Well, the living room is all cleaned up," Charlie declares, forcing us to drop our conversation and go back to the task at hand. "Oh, good. You guys have got the dishes covered."

Bella smiles, turning to her dad. "Yup. Almost done."

"Sue and the kids should be here at about nine tomorrow morning," he announces. "That should give us all a chance to sleep in a bit and get started on breakfast. What do you think?"

Bella places the last dish in the sink in front of me, her hand accidentally brushing mine as I reach for another, and then pulls the plug to drain her side. "Sounds great." She dries her hands on another towel and then walks past her dad, stopping to kiss his cheek. "I'm heading to bed. It's been a long day."

"Okay," Charlie replies. "Goodnight, kiddo."

Before she can leave the room, I glance back over my shoulder. "Goodnight, Bella."

Her cheeks brighten slightly in hue, and she smiles. "Goodnight, Edward. Sleep well."

I didn't. Sleep well, that is. I've never had a problem falling asleep on Charlie's couch before, but now, all I can do is toss and turn. I don't know when it happens—definitely sometime after three in the morning—but I pass out. I must have been exhausted as I didn't even twitch in my sleep, so when I wake up in the morning, I've got a huge kink in my neck and my back is in knots. The clock on the mantle tells me that it's just after eight. Getting through the day with less than five hours of sleep is going to prove difficult.

I get up off the couch and pad into the kitchen in my sweats and T-shirt, the smell of coffee growing stronger with every step. Charlie's always been an early riser, so it doesn't surprise me that he's up already.

"Hey," I greet, rubbing my hands over my weary face, blocking my view.

"Oh!" Bella exclaims, shocking me; I'd automatically assumed it was Charlie. I hadn't expected to find her here this early. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

Shaking my head in response to her question, I smile, letting it widen genuinely as I pull up a seat at the counter. She's still in her grey sleep shorts and a white tank top with a red flannel long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned overtop. Unfortunately for me, I also notice that she's without a bra, and this does little to keep my mind out of the gutter. "How was your sleep?" I ask in a hushed tone, hoping to keep my mind in a clean place.

"Restless." Bella grabs a second mug from the cupboard above the coffee maker and pours me a cup, adding cream and sugar before handing it to me. She grabs her own mug and then leans across the countertop, facing me, the backs of her fingers brushing mine. The look in her eyes tells me it's on purpose, and I return the gesture softly, relishing in the feeling of her soft skin.

When she lifts her mug to her lips, I do the same. "Mine, too." The tightness returns to my neck, and I bring my hand up to rub it, alerting Bella to my discomfort.

"Your neck's sore." She looks somewhat conflicted, her face showing her struggle. "I wish I could . . ."

Smiling, I nod. "I know. Me too. I'll probably just grab a hot shower in a few. Hopefully that'll help." Bella smirks, arching an eyebrow, and I suppress a chuckle, shaking my head. "You _don't_ want to go there," I warn her.

"Actually," she says, scrunching her nose up adorably, "I kind of do . . . but I won't for the sole fact that my father will probably be up very soon to start on breakfast."

As if waiting in the wings for his cue, we hear Charlie's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and soon he's in the kitchen with us. He's also in his sweats and a T-shirt as he pulls up the seat next to me, and Bella grabs him a cup of coffee, too.

"Good morning, you two. Been up long?"

"Uh, about ten minutes, maybe?" I tell him.

"I've been up since about six," Bella says, surprising me. "Down here since seven-forty-five." She catches my quizzical look and shrugs. "Figured you two grumpy bears could use some coffee, so I got a head start on it."

"Well, I appreciate it," Charlie declares, raising his mug to Bella.

Bella finishes her coffee and puts her mug in the sink. "Well, I'm going to go and wash up. I'll be back down shortly."

When we hear the shower start upstairs, Charlie decides to get started on preparing breakfast. I offer to help, but he kicks me out of the kitchen, and I decide to go fix the living room back up. I'm just putting away the spare bedding when the front door opens and Sue and the kids walk through.

"Merry Christmas!" Sue calls out happily, the smile on her face fading the minute she sees me. "Good morning, Edward." She sets what looks like an overnight bag down next to the door, and the kids do the same.

Interesting.

"Sue." I turn to the kids and smile. "Seth, Leah. Merry Christmas."

They return my greeting before rushing past me and collapsing on the couch, turning the TV on. Teenagers.

With Seth and Leah occupied, Sue heads off to the kitchen in search of Charlie, and I grab my bag so I can take it upstairs with me when I go shower. I'd heard the shower stop a little while ago, so I figure it's safe to go upstairs since Bella's probably already in her room.

I really should know better than to assume anything, because the minute I reach for the door handle, the door opens into the bathroom, steam rolling out, revealing Bella wrapped in nothing more than a towel. Her long hair falls wet around her shoulders, water rivulets dripping down her arms as she holds her towel to her chest, and she looks up at me with a bashful smile.

"Oh, hey." Her voice cracks slightly, so she clears her throat. "I should, um, go get dressed."

I'd be lying if I told you I didn't momentarily contemplate dragging her back into that bathroom and kissing her. Images of me pressing her against the closed bathroom door as I wrap her legs around my waist and have my way with her are far too prominent in my mind, and I have to rein them in before . . .

"Oh," Sue says, coming up the stairs behind me. "I was just coming to put my bag in Charlie's room."

Bella's face fills with colour, and she drops her eyes to her bare feet, shaking her head. "Th-that's okay. I was just finishing up. Bathroom's all yours, Edward."

Sue's quick to drop off her bag and then retreats back downstairs, and just before I step into the washroom, I take one more glance over my shoulder, my eyes catching Bella's once more as she slowly pushes the door closed. Our morning might have started a little awkwardly in the wake of a rough first night in her dad's house, but seeing her smile at me—even if only in passing or as she closes herself in her room and away from me—reaffirms how she feels deep down.

Of course, then I'm reminded about how much of an awful tease she is, because just before her door closes all the way, she pulls off her towel, giving me an inch-wide sneak peak of the lean length of her body. There's no way she did this accidentally, and I definitely don't see nearly as much as I'd like, but even just seeing that strip of skin from her waist to her ankle is enough to make my pulse race and my dick react accordingly. I'm trying to stay in place instead of going to her door and slipping inside—again my imagination running away from me—when I hear the click of her door locking and a dull buzz from the pocket of my bag.

I dig my phone out and shake my head as I read the text message I've received:

_Have a good shower . . . I know I did. xoxo_

Yes, I'd suspected her little peepshow was intentional, but having her confirm it and allude to having done it intentionally so I could get my rocks off makes me love her just a little bit more. As if that were even possible.

* * *

**A/N2: So, there it is. Sue knows and has decided to let them tell Charlie the truth. Was this wise? Probably not, but I think everyone is just trying to save him from freaking out at this party O.O**

**I know a lot of you didn't think Sue would come at them like that as it seemed out of character for her, but she'd just walked in on something very unexpected when all she was trying to do was check on Bella after what happened earlier.**

**Hope you all enjoyed it. This story was supposed to be wrapping up in 3 chapters, but certain things still have yet to happen, so it'll probably go a bit longer. I hope you're all okay with that ;)**

**Until next time.**

**xoxo**


	8. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Disclaimer:** Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.

**Rated for serious (not really) adult content and language.**

**WARNING: **This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing.

**A/N: A lot of you were hating on Sue pretty hard last chapter—and I get it. I do. BUT, you have to imagine she was probably a little shocked given she just walked in on her boyfriend's best friend with his hands up Bella's skirt. Hopefully this chapter will help you like her a little more. I'd always intended for her to come across that way, because who wouldn't react strongly to that? Well, she's about to have a little conversation with Bella and Edward in this one . . . let's see where it goes, shall we?**

* * *

**Chapter 8 | Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas**

I'm not going to lie. I'm pretty proud of myself for my little striptease before locking my bedroom door. Was it inappropriate? Absolutely, but I just couldn't help myself. After what happened last night—being caught groping and dry-humping each other on my dad's washing machine—I figured maybe he'd like a little spank-bank material to help us get through today.

Hmm . . . maybe I should send him a picture of my tits.

When I hear the shower start up, I figure I'm too late for that idea, so I decide to save it for another time. I'm sure it'll come in handy later on.

Digging through my bag, I pull out a pair of dark skinny jeans and a deep red V-neck sweater and toss them on my bed while I fish out some underwear and a bra. I decide on the lacy red set, even though they'll go unappreciated . . . unless I send Edward that cleavage shot I was just thinking about. Yeah, I'm totally going to do that. He'll probably need to get right back in the shower afterward, but I'm sure he'll be all right with that.

After putting my bra and panties on, I grab my phone and take said picture. I've never been the girl who sends racy photos to a guy for fear he'll show them off to his buddies, but something tells me that won't be a problem with Edward.

I shudder having even entertained that thought for a millisecond.

I'm practically bouncing with excitement, my smile stretching so wide it makes my cheeks hurt, as I attach the picture to a text and send it with the message: _Don't you wish you could open your present? _

I know I probably shouldn't be doing this—really, I do—but I'm starting to think that playing it 100% safe is just going to get us in trouble again. There's far too much sexual tension between us when we pretend like nothing's going on, and when it explodes, it's just too intense to walk away from. No, I'm thinking this might be better.

I put my phone on my bed and then pull on my jeans and sweater. The jeans are slim-fitted to my lower body, accentuating my ass and thighs, and my sweater shows off my curves while boasting a modest V-neckline that won't risk flashing the girls. I'd say I look pretty damn hot, but not hot enough to risk Edward losing all self-control.

At least, I hope not—which feels foreign and weird, because I've become a fan of him losing self-control . . . sexually speaking, of course.

I push my phone into my back pocket and sit on my bed, grabbing my knee-high brown leather boots from the floor and pulling them on. They slouch a little around my calves, and they have a lower heel, which will allow me to remain comfortable throughout the day.

I'm just pulling the second one on when there's a knock at the door, so I get up to unlock it, and when I open it, I'm surprised to see Sue standing there with two cups of tea and a small smile.

"Can I come in?" she asks softly.

I step out of the way and hold out my arm, granting her access."Of course," I reply.

She sits on the edge of my bed and offers me one of the cups. "A peace offering," she says. "I came to apologize. For last night. Honestly, I was up half the night trying to wrap my head around everything, and I realized just how wrong I'd been to say those things. I think the surprise of finding the two of you like that just threw me."

My eyes widen with shock, and I stare at her, feeling somewhat bewildered by her apology. "An apology's not necessary. You were absolutely right to—"

"No," she interrupts. "I wasn't. I had no right to give you a timeframe on when you should tell your father or to have behaved the way I did. I'm not your mother, Bella."

"But you're _a_ mother," I remind her. "So I get it. You saw . . ." I pause, not wanting to voice what she'd witnessed in case my father comes traipsing up the stairs at the worst possible moment—wouldn't that be just my luck? "You saw something happening, and you reacted."

Sue sighs, and I sit next to her on my bed. "You're being far more forgiving than I thought you'd be."

I laugh lightly. "I can admit when I've messed up, Sue. What you saw last night . . . well, as I'd said then, it wasn't supposed to happen. I was upset about what my dad had said, and we both just . . ." I stop talking, because I'm on the verge of crossing a line. If I give her too much information, I'm asking her to keep even more from my dad. "I needed reassurance."

Sue eyes me carefully, one dark eyebrow rising inquiringly. "Reassurance? So this . . . what's going on is . . .?"

"Serious?" I conclude and then nod. "Yeah. It's, uh, it's getting there." Pausing, I look at the steam rising off my tea. "I know he's not going to be thrilled—Dad, I mean—but you can't help who you fall in love with, you know?"

"Love?" Sue repeats, forcing my eyes to snap to hers.

"Shit," I squeak. "I didn't mean . . ." My heart beats rapidly, and my palms begin to sweat around my teacup. I can't believe I'd just said that when I haven't even told Edward. I've got one hell of a big mouth.

"I didn't realize," she says softly, drawing my focus back to her and away from my bumbling. "And you're right. Your father isn't going to accept this right away. This is a very complicated web you've spun, Bella."

"I know."

"But if you truly feel as you say you do, who's to tell you that you shouldn't pursue it?" There's a beat of silence as I stare at her, and just as I'm about to say something, the bathroom door opens and Edward steps out, freshly showered, shaven, and his hair a damp, tousled mess.

What was I saying again?

"Edward, can you spare a moment?" Sue asks.

Edward eyes her almost suspiciously, looking downstairs as though he's about to be Punk'd or something.

"Seth's got Charlie occupied with the new game system he got this morning. He's not going to be up here for some time," Sue explains, and Edward nods, stepping into the room but staying by the door, playing it safe. "I want to apologize to you, as well."

Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed casually in front of him, Edward looks at me, eyebrows arching slightly, and I shrug.

"As I was telling Bella, I'm sorry for how I reacted when I found the two of you. I should never have given you an allotted amount of time before you had to come clean to Charlie. I was just taken a little by surprise is all."

"It's understandable," Edward replies, accepting her apology. "We do plan to tell him, and we really never meant for anything to happen last night."

"I know that," Sue says, standing up and heading for the door. "I meant what I said about keeping this to myself, but I won't lie for you. If he suspects something and asks . . ."

"Then tell him," I interject, gaining a nod from Edward. We can't ask her to lie to my dad; that would be pushing it. "We were going to tell him after the New Year, anyway. You won't have to keep this from him much longer."

Sue steps past Edward and out into the hallway before stopping and turning to us both. "Do me a favour, though?" We both nod in unison, and she continues. "Tell him before he finds out the way I did. I don't doubt that he'll be upset when you tell him, but I think he'd be more apt to listen than he would be if he found out by accident."

"That's always been the plan," I assure her quietly. "Thank you."

Edward turns to follow Sue out of my room when she stops him. "Take a few minutes. _Behave_, but take a bit of time together. I'll keep him downstairs."

We both stare after her, stunned, and then Edward enters the room further, closing the door most of the way and holding his hand out for me. Smiling, I set my teacup down on the bedside table and take his hand, letting him pull me off the bed and into his arms.

"Behave, remember?"

"Me?!" he says, sounding somewhat appalled. "Care explaining this?" He removes one arm from around my waist and reaches into his pocket, pulls out his cell phone, and turns it to me; I have to cover my mouth to keep my laugh from carrying through the house.

"Don't tell me you didn't like it," I finally say, standing up on the tips of my toes and kissing him lightly.

"Oh, I more than liked it," he assures me, putting the phone away and pulling me closer. "It just reminded me that we have another couple of days before I'll get to unwrap my present." As if to drive the point home, his right hand moves up my body until his index finger tugs at the neckline of my sweater so he can glimpse what's underneath. "So the picture _is_ from today," he murmurs, his finger teasing the edge of my lace bra.

I sigh as a wave of goosebumps prickle up all over my body, and then I quickly come to my senses, pressing my hands to his chest and pushing him away. "Behave," I repeat, my voice low and trembling.

"Fine," he says, opening my door all the way. "I'll behave. For now." He lowers his voice and steps out into the hall. "But when we get back to the city"—his eyes grow intense as they burn into mine, and I shudder—"all bets are off."

Edward slips out of my room, leaving me stunned as I stare after him, and just before his head disappears from sight through the stair banister, he winks. That cheeky bastard.

I shake off the quiver of desire that rushes through me, and steel my resolve before following him. I find everyone in the kitchen as Dad continues to work on breakfast while Seth shows him his new Nintendo DS. While they're busy, I decide to start prepping the turkey for dinner tonight, and by the time I've got it in the oven, it's time for us to sit down and eat.

Like every year before this one, Christmas brunch is a feast of bacon, eggs, pancakes, French toast, and, to balance it all out, a fruit salad. Everyone is always so damn full after eating, but that's not necessarily a bad thing; this way we're all satiated until dinner, and we're less likely to snack and ruin our appetites before the turkey is ready.

Over breakfast, I learn that Sue and the kids will be staying over—not sure how I feel about this given my room is across from my dad's and I remember all too well about his not-so-secret stash of condoms in his nightstand, but I smile because they're happy, and I'm happy for them.

Plus, I've got music on my iPhone as well as my ear buds. I'm ready to drown out . . . _that._

The sleeping arrangements have been decided, and while I'd secretly hoped that Dad would suggest I camp out on the living room floor—possibly right next to the couch where Edward would be sleeping soundly—I already knew that wouldn't happen. Instead, Leah will join me in my room (I hope she brought her iPod and ear buds, too) and Seth will sleep in the living room.

After everyone has finished eating, I offer to clean up. There's not much for leftovers since Seth seems to be going through some kind of teenage growth spurt—that, or he actually does have a hollow leg like Sue says.

I put all of the dishes into the sink and fill it with hot, soapy water while I wipe down the counters. Once they're clean and I start to wash the dishes, a familiar body brushes against my right side, dishtowel in-hand.

"Your dad suggested I come help," Edward explains, grabbing the first plate from my hand, our fingers brushing and lingering a fraction of a second longer than should be normal. I'm sure no one would even notice if they were here . . . well, with the exception of Sue, of course.

I don't know about Edward, but I'm still feeling all warm and tingly from earlier in my room, because every time he casts his stormy green eyes my way, my knees threaten to give out and my heart races. And let's not forget how every brush of his fingers against mine when he takes the dishes from me one at a time renders me momentarily breathless and unable to form a coherent thought.

It's becoming more and more obvious that we probably shouldn't be left alone together in this house—not ever—because I'm about three seconds away from pushing him up against the fridge and ripping his clothes off.

Thankfully for the both of us, Edward seems to have far more restraint than I do, and we finish the task at hand without slipping up again.

With the kitchen clean, Edward and I return to the living room where everyone else waits patiently—okay, so Seth and Leah, being teenagers, aren't nearly as patient as Dad and Sue, who look awfully comfortable together on the recliner. Seth and Leah are sitting near the tree, their fingers practically twitching to start handing out gifts, which leaves the couch available for Edward and me.

Well, if we're going to be _forced_ to sit in the same vicinity, who am I to complain?

When given the go-ahead, Seth and Leah tear through the stack of presents under the tree, handing them out to each of us and then sitting with their own stack of gifts. Now, most families tear through their gifts all at once, but it's tradition in the Swan home to have one person go at a time. It's only fair, and this way everyone gets thanked properly and no one runs the risk of insulting the thought behind the gift.

Going from youngest to oldest, we spend the next hour and a bit opening presents. Seth gets a couple of games for his new Nintendo and a fishing pole and lures—one guess as to whom that's from. Leah, being seventeen, receives clothes, clothes, and more clothes. She's more than happy with this, which, being a girl, I totally get.

Sue and the kids bought me a new iPod—Dad must have told them I dropped my last one in a puddle just outside my apartment a few months back, which is why I have been using my phone. Yup, I've got butterfingers. I've come to accept these little flaws with a semblance of humility. When I open the gift from Dad, I'm more than a little surprised that he hasn't gotten me my usual Visa gift card. Instead, he's splurged and gotten me a new MacBook.

"Dad," I say, looking wide-eyed between him and my extravagant gift. "This is awesome. Thanks."

Dad shrugs like it's no big deal—when in truth, I know it is. "Well, you said your other laptop was crapping out," he explains. "Figured I'd do a little research and get you a new one. You need it for school and all, so it was more than practical."

Edward leans over, still keeping a safe distance between us, and taps my arm. "When he says he 'did a little research,' what he _really_ means is he called me and asked for my opinion."

I laugh, because I really should have suspected this; my dad is the biggest technophobe on the planet. "Well, thank _you_ for steering him toward the Apple store, then."

My last gift is from Edward: a gift card. Now, I know Edward, and I know how he feels about giving gift cards as gifts. _"They're too impersonal,"_ he always says. So, when I open this, I figure he's only trying to keep everyone from suspecting anything.

"I know it's not much," he says of the hundred-dollar gift card, "but I figured you could maybe go shopping for clothes or books or . . . whatever you're into these days."

The left side of my mouth twitches up into a smirk, because there's only one thing I'm really into, and I already know I'll be spending my money on something that will make us both _extremely _happy.

Victoria's Secret, here I come.

I notice a little piece of paper poking out from the sleeve and pull it out. It's the activation receipt, and scrawled on the top is a little note from Edward that reads: _Your real present is back in Seattle. _Upon reading this, my jaw threatens to fall open, but I control the urge, biting down on my lower lip for a second.

"It's great," I tell him. "Thank you. I think I know exactly what I'm going to buy with it."

Edward looks pleased with himself, but I'm not sure if it's because of the gift card, or because I know he saw me read his little note. Probably both.

Sue's next in line to open her gifts, and she's more than a little ecstatic to receive the high-end mixer she'd wanted from Dad and me, and Edward gets her a new juicer since her old one is apparently on its last leg.

Dad's up next, opening the envelope from Edward. Inside is a brochure and information about a week-long fishing expedition this spring. Dad's eyes light up like . . . well, like a kid on Christmas morning, suffice it to say. Sue gets Dad all new fishing gear, and I give him a new cell phone because the one he has is both ancient and a piece of crap. He assures me he loves it, but I can tell he's a little frightened by the newness of the technology. I'll get him hooked on apps soon enough, though. He doesn't stand a chance.

When Edward's up to open his gifts, I'm reminded for the first time in a while that he's actually a few months _older_ than my dad. Other people might find this fact disturbing, but not me; I'd already made peace with our age difference. This is just one more inconsequential (to me) thing I'd neglected to remember, is all.

Because I'd also wanted to keep from putting more than the "average" amount of thought into my public gift for Edward, I'd decided to stick to a Blu Ray box set of the Star Wars movies. Sure, he has them on DVD, but he just got a new high-def flat screen a couple months ago and Dad and Sue went together and bought him a new Blu Ray player, so I figured I'd upgrade them for him. Naturally, he loves it all.

Now that presents are done, I get up and head to the kitchen to check on the turkey. Dinner isn't for another five hours, but I want to be sure the turkey's on track. When I return to the living room, Dad's playing with his new phone while Edward explains a few things about it, Leah's texting someone, probably telling them about everything she got, and Seth is playing his DS while Sue reads the manual for her new mixer. I decide to join them all, and I open the box to my new laptop. It's a thing of beauty, and I immediately power it up.

A couple hours go by when there's a knock at the door, surprising me a little until Dad explains that he invited Alice and Jasper back for dinner tonight. They join us in the living room, and Alice cozies up beside me to check out my new computer.

"How was the rest of your night?" she asks quietly, and I smile at her concern. Alice was sweet to apologize for bringing up my secret boyfriend and unleashing my father's disapproval.

"Pretty good," I reply.

"Well, I'm here if you ever want to talk about . . . you know, _girl_ things."

Smiling, I rest my head on her shoulder. Her offer is sweet, but something tells me she won't really welcome a girl-talk session about my choice of beau. Might be a little too squicky, even for Alice. "Thanks, Alice. I'll keep that in mind."

Later in the afternoon, I head back to the kitchen to start the vegetables and potatoes for dinner. It's late enough in the day that I don't feel guilty pouring myself a glass of wine before I get started washing and peeling the vegetables. I've just started chopping the carrots after putting the potatoes on the stove when Edward walks in.

"Your dad sent me in for beer," he says, explaining himself as though I might mind the pleasant interruption.

Smiling, I set down the knife and wipe my hands on a dishtowel. I step away from the counter, peering out toward the living room to be sure we're alone before I address him. I still keep my distance as I lean back against the counter I was working on and he remains by the fridge. It's obvious we still don't trust ourselves to be too close to one another, but the way his eyes roam the entire length of my body hungrily—lingering on my chest and probably imagining what he knows I'm wearing underneath—tells me what he'd _like_ to be doing right now. And, to be honest, I would like nothing more than that, too.

I shake the image of him sweeping the countertop clear and throwing me onto it from my mind and smile brightly. "You know, for a man who has a problem with me seeing an older man," I say, keeping my voice low, "he sure has a habit of throwing us together."

Edward chuckles, cracking one of the beer bottles open and taking a drink. "Huh. You've got a point." He takes a look around the kitchen before focusing on me again. "You need a hand in here?" he offers.

I shake my head, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks, but I think I've got it covered."

Suddenly, Edward's eyes lift above my head, and I turn around to see Jasper entering the kitchen. Nodding courteously, he smiles at us both. "Bella. Edward."

"Well," Edward says, his green eyes dancing nervously from Jasper to me as he picks up the beer bottles again, "if you don't need a hand in here, I should take these to the living room."

"Of course," I tell him, turning back to my vegetable chopping. "Thanks for offering to help."

Edward walks past Jasper, who remains in the entryway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes curious. I try not to focus on his presence, but I can feel his eyes on me. My anxiety begins to spike as I'm reminded that this is how he looked at me last night when my dating life was the centre of attention, but I try to keep it from my face as I look up at Jasper.

"Hey." I know it's super lame, but I'm not sure what else to say.

He smiles again, and there's something about it that worries me a little. Okay, not a little; it worries me a lot. "How are things going, Bella? It feels like forever since we've talked."

"Uh, good," I reply. "School's been keeping me pretty busy."

"And you're enjoying school?"

I smile, finally feeling at ease again, like I was misreading Jasper's body language a minute ago. I guess ever since Sue caught me with my legs around Edward and his hands up my dress, I've been pretty quick to assume we're more than a little transparent. "I am. I mean, there are a few classes that are pretty snooze-inducing, but I manage."

Jasper steps into the kitchen and sits across from me at the island while I continue chopping. There's a moment of silence between us, and the vibes that suddenly thicken the air in the room make my hands tremble slightly. Does he know? I guess it wouldn't surprise me if he picked up on something between Edward and me; he's always been pretty aware—even more so than Alice, sometimes.

Should I bring it up? What if he _doesn't_ know? Then I'm just ratting myself out and putting him in the same precarious situation as Sue.

Every second that passes has my anxiety rising, and I find it hard to focus on the task of preparing dinner. I don't think it would be the end of the world if Jasper and Alice knew; I bet we'd feel a little better to be able to tell _someone_, but is now the best time?

I set the knife down again and raise my eyes to find Jasper looking at me; I can feel that he knows something. I don't want to lie to him, but I also don't want to admit to something he may or may not have figured out. So, taking a steady breath, I begin to say, "Jasper—"

He doesn't give me the opportunity to say . . . well, whatever it is I was going to say before he speaks up. "You don't have to say anything, Bella." He keeps his voice low and serious. "You seem happy, and you don't have to explain your relationship to me—or to anyone, for that matter. You feel what you feel, and outside opinions shouldn't factor into that." There's another dramatic pause, and I can tell he's not quite done. "But you should consider talking to your dad about it. It's obvious this bothers him, but I think it bothers him because you've kept it hidden. I know it doesn't make much sense, but by keeping this from him, I think you've validated his feelings of unease."

I don't realize I've been holding my breath until my lungs begin to burn.

"I plan to tell him," I manage to squeak out. "In the New Year. We're going to sit down and talk to him."

Jasper laughs lightly, pushing his curly blond hair back. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Bella. But I could sense the tension before everything came to a head last night. You and your dad have always been close, and I don't want to see you jeopardize that."

Seeming content with how the conversation has gone, Jasper stands up and starts back toward the living room. I'm left there, playing his conversation over and over in my head for a minute and totally understanding what he meant about my secrecy validating my dad's concerns. I'm glad that the holidays are almost over, and then Edward and I can sit down with my dad and tell him everything. Sure, there's going to be backlash, but we'll be ready to handle everything rationally by then, I think,

I pick up the knife and am just about to begin slicing the carrots again when something from our conversation registers for the first time: While he'd brought up our relationship, Jasper never mentioned Edward by name once. Does this mean he still has no idea? The looks he was giving the two of us earlier, as well as last night, would indicate he knows, but why wouldn't he say anything? Maybe he only suspects, and by not gaining confirmation, it makes everything easier to deny should he be questioned.

Yeah, let's go with that. Totally plausible.

My brain starts to hurt, and I pick up my wine, downing it in hopes it'll help. After pouring myself another glass, I finally buckle down and finish the vegetable prep so they'll be done on time.

Once dinner is ready, I put the call out for help with carving the turkey while I finish getting the table set and dishing up the side dishes. Dad volunteers Edward, which I find hilarious again.

I mean, really. If only he knew . . .

Edward and I work side-by-side in the kitchen, doing what probably looks like a well-choreographed dance as we move around each other to get dinner on the table. True, we've been stuck in the kitchen together many times before, but it never occurred to me just how in-tune we've always been with one another until now.

Dinner is amazing—and that's not me being biased about my own cooking. It's not just the food, but the company that makes it wonderful. All through dinner, I glance over at Jasper to see if I can pick up on whether or not he knows as much as I suspect he does. I want to ask him, but at the same time, I don't want to out our relationship if he has no idea.

I hate that I can't focus on anything else, and if I keep staring, people are going to probably start thinking I have a crush on him.

As if my current situation isn't complicated enough.

After dinner, Dad and Sue offer to clean up, and Sue enlists Seth and Leah to help. Naturally, they grumble and complain, but they're soon reminded how much Edward and I did to prepare the meal today.

Game. Set. Match. Parents: one. Whiney teenagers: zero.

Alice and Jasper tell us all that they have to head back to the city since they have plans with Jasper's family early tomorrow morning, so after saying goodbye and seeing them to the door, Edward and I head to the living room and sit a safe distance from each other on the couch. The only sounds filling the room are the crackle of the fire and the soft notes of Christmas carols from the stereo, and I sigh peacefully as I let the warmth of the fire and wine envelop me. I can hear the constant clatter of dishes and laughter from the kitchen, so knowing we're safe for now, I reach across the couch and lace my fingers through Edward's.

He responds with a smile, glancing toward the kitchen before lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it softly. "Merry Christmas, Bella," he whispers, letting our hands fall, still connected, to the couch, his thumb gliding over the back of my hand in a way that sends goosebumps prickling up my arm and spreading all over my body.

"Merry Christmas, Edward."

Smiling, I rest my head against the back of the couch and stare longingly into Edward's green eyes. We'd gotten through the day without slipping up. I'd say that's a small victory and we've earned the two minutes of hand-holding before we hear Leah and Seth crash through the house and into the living room, forcing us to pull apart.

* * *

**A/N2: Well, they've made it through another day. What did you all think? I can't wait to hear!**

We'll be headed back to Seattle soon, giving these two some apparently much-needed time alone before they talk to Charlie.

**Until next time!**

**xoxo**


	9. I Think We're Alone Now

**Disclaimer:** Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.

**Rated for serious (not really) adult content and language.**

**WARNING: **This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing.

**A/N: Okay, so Christmas is over, and these two have been REALLY good. Maybe we should reward them with some time alone back home in Seattle ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 9 | I Think We're Alone Now**

"You sure you can't stay awhile longer?" Charlie asks over breakfast.

It's the morning of the twenty-ninth, and Bella and I are planning to leave early that afternoon. Truthfully, I could stay another day or two, but every day that passes finds me more and more unable to stay away from Bella. It will only be a matter of time before we slip up again; I just know it.

"Yeah," I reply, spearing some eggs onto my fork and taking a bite. "I've got a few loose ends to tie up at the office before the New Year, and then there's the office party the night of the thirty-first."

Charlie looks over to Bella, looking somewhat hopeful, and it makes my stomach churn, because I already know what her answer is going to be. Offering him an apologetic smile, she shrugs. "I'd stay if he wasn't my ride home," she tells him. I sense a little truth in her words, but more than that, I sense her desperation for the two of us to be alone.

Of course, that could all be me. That picture Bella sent me the other morning only does so much good; I can't wait to have my hands on her in every way she'll allow.

Over the last few days, we've managed to have a few stolen moments together, but we're always careful to keep a safe distance from one another—save for a few fleeting touches as we pass one another in the hall. I'll be glad once we can tell Charlie, and I know that now would probably be a good time since it's just the three of us gathered around the table, but I don't want to ruin what I have planned back in Seattle for Bella.

Yes, it's selfish, I get that, but what could a few more days hurt, really? Bella's going to ask him to come down on the second of January, and she'll suggest we all go to breakfast. While there, we'll tell him everything—well, maybe not _everything_, but we'll tell him about us.

Telling him on our terms will be better for everyone, but it's still not going to be easy for him to hear. I think Bella is hoping that such a public setting will help to keep him from overreacting . . . or, really, just reacting a little less like a father who's just found out the identity of his daughter's much older boyfriend.

"So, Dad," Bella says, shifting in her seat nervously, indicating that this is it. This is the moment she's going to invite him to the city so we can talk to him. "I know you're working New Year's Eve, but is there any chance you could make it down afterward? Like, maybe on the second or something?"

Charlie smirks before taking a sip of his coffee. "Why not just stay until the New Year? I'd be happy to drive you back to the city."

"Well," she says softly, dragging the word out, "I'm hoping to have plans on New Year's."

Charlie appears confused as he drops his eyes to his plate and pushes his eggs around. "Hoping? You mean that uh . . ." He pauses briefly, almost as he's trying to find the right word to use. "That _guy_ you're seeing hasn't asked you to do anything?" He laughs once, and it's without humour.

"Dad," Bella says, exasperated. "It isn't like that. We haven't been able to talk much since I left the city." It's admittedly hard to suppress a smirk every time she finds a way to skirt the truth without flat-out lying. Somehow, a career in journalism seems quite fitting. "I'm sure he's got something planned." She carefully casts her eyes up at me before tossing her napkin onto her empty plate. "You guys done?"

Charlie and I relinquish our plates to her, and she takes them to the sink where she proceeds to tidy up. It's obvious she doesn't want to start an argument with her father about her relationship, and I can't blame her. I've known Bella long enough—and her father even longer—to know that if they continue on down that road, Bella would have enough and tell him about us in a fit of anger. And anger only breeds more anger, which is something we're trying to avoid when it comes to telling Charlie.

Keeping his voice low, Charlie leans across the table, and I fear the conversation we're about to have. "Do you really think she's serious about this guy?" he asks. "What could they possibly have in common?"

Anger spikes slightly, and I pick up my coffee mug, suddenly very interested by the steam rolling off the black liquid inside. I debate reminding him that I—an older guy—am involved with a younger woman and he seemed to be just fine with the idea of that, but I fear that this will only put him on the path to figuring everything out, and that's definitely not what I want. "Let it go, Charlie."

"I can't!" he hisses, still careful not to draw Bella's attention over the running water. "What kind of man goes out prowling the streets for a girl half his age?"

I breathe deeply, evenly, and count to ten before my anger can build any more. I know he doesn't realize he's talking about me, but that doesn't make it any less insulting. Besides, does he really think that little of Bella's ability to choose a suitable partner?

I set the mug down, my hands still wrapped around it, and I look Charlie dead in the eye. "Don't you think it's possible that this guy's good for her?" Charlie stares at me, dumbfounded. "She's _happy_, Charlie."

This seems to quiet him for the time-being, and I experience a flicker of hope that he might be a little more forgiving when he finds out that _I'm_ the man seeing his daughter. If we can just keep reminding him about how happy we are, then perhaps he'll listen to reason.

Behind me, the water stops running, and when I turn around, I see Bella is wiping down the counter, having finished the dishes. "Okay," she says brightly, almost as though her conversation with her father never happened. "I'm going to run upstairs and finish packing my things. Dad, you think about that trip up to see me. I'll take you to your favourite restaurant for brunch."

The tension in the room thins as Charlie smiles. It's obvious he's not going to press her about her relationship any further, and I relax slightly. "I'll see if I can sneak away for the day, kiddo."

"Great."

The sound of Bella climbing the stairs echoes through the lower level of the house before she can be heard in her room above the kitchen. Charlie finishes his coffee, takes the empty mug to the sink, and then turns to me and says he's going to go have a quick shower before Bella and I have to take off.

With Bella and Charlie upstairs, I decide to go make sure all my things are packed and fold up all the blankets that are still on the couch. By the time I've stacked the last blanket on the pile, I hear Bella skipping down the stairs. While Charlie showers, I decide to take advantage of this rare moment alone and meet her at the foot of the stairs where she sets her bags down. Taking her hand, I pull her around the corner until we're out of sight, but still within earshot of the stairs in case Charlie makes an appearance.

"Edward!" she quietly exclaims with a light giggle as I sandwich her body between mine and the wall. Her chest heaves against mine as I trail my fingers up and down her arms, inviting a fog of lust to roll around us.

Being sure to pay attention to the sound of the shower running upstairs, I lower my face to hers, kissing and nipping along her jaw, moving toward that ticklish spot just below her ear. Her body softens against me, her head falling back and her hands fly to my hips, her thumbs hooking into the waist of my jeans, while my hands palm the swell of her hips as they travel south.

Her soft sigh as I lightly nip the shell of her ear and squeeze her ass travels straight to my dick, but I hold back every carnal impulse because I know we won't be alone for much longer.

"Just think," I whisper into her ear, smiling when I watch the skin of her neck prickle with goosebumps, "in a few short hours, we'll be back in the city . . . _alone_."

"Mmm," she hums in reply, pushing her hips away from the wall and up against mine. "And what exactly do you plan to do to me?" She shifts her head, forcing me to look into her eyes as she smirks slyly. Her voice is low and sexy, sending another shot of lust straight to my groin.

I've always hated that stereotype about how men can't think when sex is involved, but every day with Bella has me wondering if there isn't maybe the tiniest hint of truth to it. Without thinking about how we could be caught by her father at any moment, my right hand moves around to the front of her body and slips between her thighs.

She inhales a shaky breath as my hand moves a few times before my common sense finally returns, and I pull it away, placing it securely on her hip. Her eyes flutter open, and she looks up at me through heavy eyelids. "How long until we leave again?"

Before I can reply, I hear the shower stop and the sound of the metal shower rings slide across the bar. Smiling, I kiss her softly once more before pulling away. "To be continued."

Reluctantly, Bella and I part ways—she to the kitchen and I back to the living room—and soon Charlie wanders down the stairs. Bella and I offer to help him clean up the living room and take down all of the Christmas decorations before we leave, so we spend the next couple hours doing that. He never once brings up Bella's relationship again.

Once the house is back in order, I suggest that we should get on the road, and Bella agrees. It's obvious she's trying to rein in her eagerness to go, but at the same time, I can see how much she hates saying goodbye to her father.

Charlie hugs Bella after she puts her jacket on. "I'll be up in a couple of days," he tells her. "You did promise me breakfast, after all."

Bella laughs softly, pulling out of his embrace and picks up her bag. "Good."

Charlie turns to me and nods. "Drive safe," he says, the look in his eyes reminding me that I'll have his daughter in my car with me and that he values her life even above his own.

What he doesn't realize is that I feel exactly the same way.

After I assure him that it's not my intention to drive recklessly, we say goodbye, and Bella and I haul our bags out to the car. Charlie watches from the doorway as Bella and I get into the car and buckle up, both turning and waving to him before pulling away from the house and making our way toward the highway. The second the house is out of view, Bella reaches over and takes my hand, sighing as she rests her head back against the seat and looks at me.

I can feel her happiness pulsing through her veins as she squeezes my hand, and I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it. "Just a few hours and we'll be back in Seattle," I tell her, briefly glancing at her before returning my eyes to the road. "How would you feel about going to my place tonight?"

"It doesn't matter to me where we go," she replies, her voice low and husky, "so long as we're alone to do whatever we please to one another." She sits up and moves closer to me, leaning over the console to whisper in my ear while I struggle to keep my eyes—and the car—on the road. "Now, why don't you pick up the pace so you can get started doing all the naughty things you've fantasized about these past few days."

Her words, as always, shoot straight through me, my cock stirring as I commit the tenor, as well as what she's said, to memory. The way she speaks and acts so openly about sex always renders me incapable of speech right away. I've never been with anyone like her. Tanya has always been far more reserved, her actions coming across as almost robotic any time we'd had sex in the past. But Bella . . . Bella is something else. She is so sure of herself and confident in her own skin that she doesn't let anything hold her back. She excites me more than any other woman I've ever been with, and I am so glad I chased after her all those weeks ago.

There are several times while I drive along the highway that the sexual tension thickens the air enough to make me contemplate pulling over. I would give nothing more than to do just that, especially when I look over at Bella to find her staring at me, her eyes bright and mischievous, but know that I can't. Why not? Well, because we'd run the risk of a cop finding my Lexus on the side of the road, the windows likely fogged up while the vehicle rocks wildly. Not only do I not want to get fined for parking (is that what the kids are still calling it?), but with Charlie being the Chief of Police in Forks, there's no guarantee he won't hear about this.

This is all I need to keep the car on the road and my thoughts on how I plan to expel all of this sexual energy that continues to thrum through every square inch of my body.

"Do you need to stop by your place for anything?" I ask, hoping to strike up some kind of conversation in an attempt to keep my thoughts from wandering to what I have planned for the two of us back at my apartment.

"Mmm," she hums contemplatively. "Nope. I think I'm good. As long as I can throw a load of laundry in at your place, that is."

"Of course," I reply, glancing over at her. "I've got a private washer and dryer in my walk-in closet, actually."

She smiles. "How convenient." A brief silence falls between us before Bella sits up straight and turns slightly to face me a little more. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

I hear the serious lilt to her voice, and my eyebrows pull together, curious. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

She pauses for a moment, seeming to think about what it is she wants to ask. "Has Jasper said anything to you? You know, about us?"

Stunned, my gaze snaps to hers. "No, why? Has he said something to _you_?"

"Kind of." My eyes widen as she continues. "I meant to talk to you about this sooner, but there was never _really_ a good time." I nod in understanding. "He didn't mention you by name, but the way he looked at us at the party when Alice was asking about my 'mystery man' and Dad was talking about your 'hot piece of ass'"—we both laugh lightly—"made me think he suspected something."

"Well," I interject, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "perhaps you're reading too much into it."

"There's more," she tells me. "Remember when you came into the kitchen on Christmas day for beer?" I nod. "And Jasper walked in?" Another nod. "Well, he said some things."

"What kinds of things?"

She exhales softly. "He said I didn't have to explain my relationship to him or to anyone, but that we should tell Dad because our keeping it secret probably feeds his anxiousness over this entire thing."

I shrug, changing lanes to get around the person driving below the posted speed limit. "Well, I suppose he's got a point. By sneaking around, it probably makes him think, on some level, that _you_ feel what you're doing is wrong, and therefore it only fuels his similar feelings."

"Yeah," she agrees quietly. "That's what I gathered."

"Did he say anything else?"

Through my periphery, I see her shake her head. "No. That was about it."

"I think the fact that he didn't mention me by name bodes well for his not really knowing," I try to assure her, even though I'm not so sure; I remember the look in his eyes when he walked into the kitchen that day.

"Yeah, it's always a possibility," Bella concurs. "But I can't get the way he was watching us out of my he—"

"Listen," I interrupt, bringing her hand to my lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "you're probably reading too much into it. I'm sure he was just speaking in a general sense. He'd have said something to me, too, if he had everything figured out." I chuckle. "Not to mention, there's no way Alice wouldn't figure it out if he knew."

Bella releases a soft sigh of relief, relaxing back in her seat. "You're probably right."

"I'm sorry, what?" I tease, leaning close to her.

Unable to contain her laughter, Bella reaches over and shoves me lightly. "You hard of hearing?"

"I've just never heard those words before," I tell her. It's the truth, but I'm really just teasing her in hopes of lightening the mood so close to home. "I think I like the sound of them."

"Well, if that's all I have to do to get you excited . . ." Seduction haloes her every word; she's playing a dangerous game, but thankfully the sign we've just passed says we'll be in the city within a half hour.

Not a moment too soon.

We try to fill the remaining time in the car with topics as far away from sex as possible. Sure, my thoughts still occasionally drift to those of a sexual nature, but so do Bella's—she doesn't admit to this out loud, though. I can tell by the way her breathing turns shallow, or how she nibbles on her bottom lip, and even by how often she shifts in her seat, pressing her legs together tightly.

When we do finally arrive at my building, I park the car in its usual spot before grabbing our bags. Bella and I ride the elevator to my floor, and I'm somewhat glad I've got my hands full with our luggage, because the way Bella eyes me from her spot across from me has my blood burning with my desire for her. As we walk the hall to my door, Bella digs out her copy of the keys so I don't have to fumble with the bags that I insisted on carrying for her, and she lets us inside.

The second the door is closed behind us, every reason to stay apart vanishes, and I drop the bags to the floor as Bella rushes into my arms. Her lips are desperate against mine, her tongue firm and insistent as she weaves her fingers into my hair and holds me close. I take a step forward, trying to navigate our way down the hall and toward my bedroom, but we're clumsy in our need, tripping and stumbling over each other's feet and running into the walls.

Frustrated and horny, I turn us, forcing Bella's back against the wall as I pull her shirt up her body and toss it to the ground. She's panting when I break our kiss to remove her shirt, so I kiss a path along her jaw and down her neck, nipping the warm skin along her shoulder as I unbutton her jeans and slip my hand inside to find her wet and wanting.

She moans, the breathy sound vibrating beneath my skin until it reaches my growing erection. My hand continues to move between her legs, and she meets my every stroke with a thrust of her hips. My name falls past her lips, soft and airy, before she places her hands on the waist of my jeans and undoes them, pushing them over my hips until they fall down my legs and pool around my ankles. Her soft, talented hand slips behind the fabric of my boxers, grasping my cock, her grip firm and working with purpose.

Her jeans keep my hand from gaining a full range of motion, so I pull back, hook my fingers in her pants at the hips and tug them down. Unlike mine, Bella's jeans take a little effort to remove since they're so damn fitted to her body—not that I'm complaining; they fit her body like a glove or a second skin, and I love looking at her ass in them.

She laughs as she kicks her feet free of her shoes and jeans, moving her focus to ridding my body of my shirt. Her hands explore the planes of my chest while mine thread into the lengths of her hair and bring her lips back to mine. This kiss is less urgent, but just as passionate as I take her bottom lip between mine and trace my tongue over it. As we deepen the kiss, my hands slide down over Bella's arms, and I feel the goosebumps prickle up beneath the pads of my fingers as I move to ensnare her hips and palm her ass over her little black panties.

"Take me," she pleads against my lips. "Right here."

My urgency to make love to Bella returns in an instant as I all but tear her panties from her body and push my boxers down. I grab her hips, pulling her forward as I slide my hands down until I'm gripping her ass firmly and I pick her up, her tits bouncing behind her black lace bra as I position her legs around me and enter her. We moan simultaneously as the sensation rolls through us, Bella's arms wrapping around my neck and pulling my face toward her neck. After a minute, our hips find a rhythm, and we work toward the mutual goal of our release. The sound of our skin slapping together as I increase my speed makes the pulse in my cock increase, and I soon find myself balancing along the precipice of my orgasm.

The volume of Bella's cries increase, jolted and bouncing off the walls of my condo, as I work to bring her to the edge I'm barely teetering on. "Edward," she cries. "Oh, god, Edward." Over and over again, she says my name, and I feel the hold on my climax beginning to waver.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," I chant, keeping one hand securely on her ass as my other climbs the soft curves of her body to her right breast. My fingers dip behind the lace, pulling the cup down and exposing her supple tit to me, and I palm it, manipulating her taut nipple and making her arch her back toward me.

"Oh!" she shouts, her fingers twisting almost painfully into my hair. This is all the encouragement I need, and I crush my lips to hers again as I continue to pinch and tweak her nipple while thrusting into her manically.

I pray she's close, because my vision starts to blur around the edges and every square inch of my skin hums with the anticipation of climax. When I feel Bella's body tense against mine, I know she's there, and I increase my efforts, pushing my hips up into her and squeezing her breast a little harder. It doesn't take long before the walls of her pussy tighten and clench around me, and I finally let go.

My hips still after a minute, and I press my forehead to Bella's sternum as she runs her fingers lazily through my hair, from crown to nape, teasing the hairs along my neck and groaning, satisfied. Her legs begin to tremble around me, so I carefully withdraw from between her legs and lower her to the floor.

I smile, nodding toward the bedroom we still have yet to enter. "Come on, let's take this to the bedroom."

"Ready so soon?" she teases.

Chuckling, I take her by the hand and lead her to the room. "Give me a bit," I reply. "I wanted to give you your present. It's in there."

"Mmm," she moans, following me through the door and sitting on the edge of my bed before flopping down on her back while I walk over to my tall dresser and grab the envelope that sits on top. "I'd be okay if what we just did in your hall was my present. That was fucking awesome."

My pride swells—as does my cock—and I return to the bed. Looking down at her, I smile, admiring how her dark hair fans out around her head and her tits sit perfect and round on her chest.

"Then I guess I could always give these to someone else," I tell her, not at all serious.

Bella sits up quickly, and I find it hard to remove my eyes from her chest, even as she holds her hands out for the envelope. "Well, you've already gone to the trouble," she tells me, her eyes wide and bright with curiosity.

I hand her the envelope and watch as she opens it. After removing the two tickets, she takes a minute to read them, her eyebrows furrowing as her eyes rise to mine. "Edward," she says softly, making it hard for me to gauge her reaction to the unspoken invitation to my office New Year's party. "Is this a good idea? I mean . . . Your coworkers and friends? What if Tanya shows up? I wouldn't put it past her . . ."

I sit next to her on the bed, urging her to face me as I place my hands on her knees. "Would it help to ease your worries if I told you this was a masquerade ball?"

Bella's breath catches in her throat, and I can see her apprehensions beginning to flit away as she imagines the possibilities. "A masquerade," she repeats, dropping her eyes back to the tickets. "So, no one would suspect a thing."

"No identities need to be revealed," I assure her.

Slowly, her lips turn up into a smile, and her eyes find mine once more. "Then I guess I've got some shopping to do."

* * *

**A/N2: Soooo . . . who's excited about the ball?**

I know you all want them to just tell Charlie. I agree-but I also see why they're waiting (you know, since I have the inside scoop ;))

**I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter! The next one is going to be fun! Bella's dress is TO DIE FOR!**

**Until next time!**

**xoxo**


	10. All I Ask of You

**Disclaimer:** Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any similarities to the original characters or themes from the books or media franchise are used here for entertainment purposes only.

**Rated for serious (not really) adult content and language.**

**WARNING: **This story will contain drama. This could be, but may not pertain to, the drama surrounding a couple entering a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap and how those around them will react to this news. Please consider this before continuing.

**A/N: Well, it's almost time for them to tell Charlie. But before that happens, I think these two deserve a few more happy memories, don't you? Yeah. Me too. Well, here's a little bit of Bella.**

* * *

**Chapter 10 | All I Ask of You**

I have exactly twenty-four hours to find the _perfect_ dress for Edward's office party. Attending something like this is definitely risky, especially given we haven't really come out as a couple to anyone. Add to that, Tanya's showing up is a very real possibility since she's a shareholder in his company.

It's the small fact that this is a masquerade ball that sets my mind at ease.

After sharing the delicious breakfast he'd made, I kiss Edward goodbye and head out on my shopping trip. There's one small snag in my plan though: I have no clue where to start looking for a ball gown. I'm comfortable enough in my own femininity that I enjoy dressing up and doing my hair and makeup, but going to balls? I can honestly say that the opportunity has never presented itself. One could make the argument about prom dress shopping, but that was _prom_. This is a _ball_. Prom dresses are a far cry from what I envision when I think of what one would wear to a ball.

Truthfully, I want to knock Edward's socks off, and I don't think a prom dress is going to do that. I figure the most it will serve to do is remind him of our age difference. Not exactly the best idea.

While I wait for my bus on the sidewalk, I grab my phone and dial Jessica's number. I know she's still in Mexico, but if anyone would have a good idea where to shop, it's her; her family is always attending fancy soirees and such.

"Hey, B! Happy almost New Year!" she greets excitedly. "How's Forks?"

I laugh. "Forks was pretty great. How's Mexico?"

"Hot," she replies with a laugh. "I got a pretty wicked tan, and I'm currently sitting on the beach with a couple of drinks while my parents do whatever it is they do this damn early. What are you up to? Any big plans for tomorrow night? The hotel we're staying at is throwing a huge party, so I'm going to go to that."

"Actually, that's one of the reasons I'm calling you," I admit. "I got invited to this party . . . a masquerade ball, to be specific."

"Fun!" Jess exclaims. There's a brief pause as I imagine her sitting up from her lounge chair and wrapping her arms around her knees, much like she does when we gossip on my bed before passing out. "Did your booty call guy invite you?"

Laughing again, I shake my head at her ridiculousness. "I thought I told you to stop calling him that. And yes. He invited me."

"Soooo . . . I guess that means the two of you have gone public?" she inquires curiously. "So now you can share with your best friend who he is?"

"Soon," I assure her. "I promise."

She doesn't seem too surprised by my answer, but she does sigh with feigned exasperation. At least, I think it's feigned.

"So, did you call me just to rub it in my face that you get to go to some fancy-schmancy party?"

"Asks the girl who gets invited to _all_ the fancy-schmancy parties," I quip, both of us laughing. "And no, actually. I was wondering if you could recommend a place for me to go to find a dress."

Jess rambles off a list of dress shops as my bus comes into view, and I enter them into my phone so I don't forget them. Before I hang up, Jessica reminds me that I'll need to stop by a party store to search for a masquerade mask, stating that a lot of shops carry them almost year-round since masquerade balls are becoming more and more popular.

I have zero luck in the first two dress shops on my list. Most of what I found in them were bridal gowns, and anything that wasn't white or ivory was taffeta and screamed bridesmaid. I don't want to wear a cotton-candy pink bridesmaid dress. While some of them were lovely, none of them were masquerade ball material.

For me, anyway.

The third shop I step into gives me hope. It's not like the others—all crisp and formal, their walls lined with white bridal gowns—instead boasting a more modern feel in the rich colours of the tapestries, paint, and furniture. It's not a large shop, and it doesn't have nearly the number of dresses that the other two had, but what I'm seeing on the few mannequins that are scattered about draws me forward. These dresses are elegant, yet geared more toward my generation. They're unique among the vast amounts of dresses that all looked the same in the other stores.

"Hello there," a brunette saleswoman greets with a wide smile. She's dressed in a pair of jeans and a white top with a grey blazer overtop—nothing like the pantsuit-clad women of the other shops. "What can I help you find today?"

Smiling, I regard her before glancing around the room again, hoping something catches my eye. "I'm going to a party tomorrow night—a masquerade ball, to be specific, and I need a dre—" I don't even finish my sentence because all of my focus is on the mannequin across the room and the dress it wears. "That one," I say softly, taking in the soft lines as I make my way toward it.

"Good eye," the saleswoman says, following me.

I'll admit, when I first started shopping in my mind, I'd imagined a corseted dress with elaborate beading or lace-work adorning it and a very full skirt. But this . . . this dress was exquisite. I reach out and run my fingers over the black lace that covers the white satin bodice, down over the fitted hips before tapering as the skirt flowed out at the knee. More lace trims the hemline of the skirt, and I find myself unable to get over how beautiful and perfect this dress is.

"This is a one-of-a-kind gown by a local up-and-coming designer whom we have the pleasure of working with exclusively," the saleswoman tells me, stepping around the mannequin and unzipping the gown. She removes the dress and leads me toward one of the fitting rooms. "I'm Carmen," she says, hanging the dress on an empty hanger and then putting it in my room.

"Bella," I tell her, stepping into the fitting room and gripping the curtain. Hearing it's the only one in existence worries me because what if it's too big or too small? I won't have time to get it altered before the party tomorrow, will I? It's not something I've ever really had to think about or plan.

My pessimism is proven premature as I strip out of my jeans and long-sleeved shirt and slide the gown up my body, reaching behind me and pulling the zipper from the curve of my ass to where the dress dips into a deep V at the middle of my back. It fits like a fucking glove, and I smile as I take in my reflection. Sure, my hair and makeup aren't done, but it's not hard to imagine how I'll look on Edward's arm tomorrow night.

"How are you doing in there, Bella?" Carmen asks from behind the thick curtain as I run my hands over the fitted, lace-covered bodice, loving how soft it feels beneath my hands.

The dress hugs every curve, from the sweetheart neckline and low V-cut back, before it flows out at the knee. It's the first dress I've even tried on, but I can't imagine loving another as much. Instead of answering Carmen from behind the curtain, I step out with a bright smile on my face. I need to know if someone else likes it as much as I do.

The look on her face is all the proof I need that this is the dress, and I bite my lower lip as I look in the three-way mirror positioned out here, turning and appreciating the back of the dress as well. "I'm afraid to ask how much," I confess, not sure I can even afford this—even with my credit card that my dad funds since I don't have a job. It's not that I don't _want_ to work, but having gotten into school on a full scholarship, Dad had offered to pay for my apartment and anything I might need so long as I focused on my studies and kept my grades up. I worked all through high school and do have some money in my savings, but something tells me it won't be enough for this dress, and that makes me feel pretty sullen. Perhaps I should have taken Edward up on his offer to help pay for my gown . . .

Carmen is still beaming behind me, probably because she thinks she's about to make a huge commission. "Actually, it's on sale due to it being part of the old line."

Oh, good. So instead of being three-thousand, it's likely only two. Fantastic.

"Two-fifty," she continues, and I choke on the breath of air I've taken in.

"Thousand?" I manage to squeak out, fearing the worst and suddenly feeling like the dress is constricting my airways. I look around, suddenly wondering if I wandered into one of those high-end specialty shops that those _Real Housewives_ always shop in. I feel my hopes of wearing this dress for Edward quickly slipping away.

Carmen laughs, confusing me. "Oh, no, honey," she tells me, laying her hand on my arm. "Two-hundred-fifty dollars. Three figures, not six."

Relief floods me and my previous elation returns like a flash of lightning. "You can't be serious?" I could afford that! Even without that gift card Edward got me for Christmas _or_ my credit card! Without hesitating, I nod emphatically, hopping up and down and clapping like a kid jacked up on sugar that was just told they were going to an amusement park. "I'll take it!"

I step back behind the curtain and remove the dress, handing it through to Carmen before even putting my clothes back on. I quickly dress and meet her at the till where she's got the dress bagged in a black garment bag and hanging behind her. My next stop will be to the party store and then to Victoria's Secret for a sexy bra and panty set to wear underneath. I mean, I did make myself a promise that that's how I would spend Edward's gift card.

And shoes! I'll definitely need some sexy new pumps to pair with this fuck-hot dress!

I pull out my debit card and am waiting to hear my total when Carmen glances up from the register with a look of realization. "You said this was a masquerade party, right?" I nod. "Do you have your mask?"

I shake my head back and forth. "No. I was going to head over to the party store, actually. My friend said they carry them over there."

Carmen's lips turn up into a beautiful smile and she turns around to the cabinet behind her, opening the top drawer and pulling out a box. When she sets it down, she opens the lid. I'm rendered momentarily stunned and speechless as I peer inside to find a sleek black masquerade mask sitting atop a blue velvet pillow. Looking up at Carmen, I ask, "May I?" She nods her assent, and I reach inside and pick up the intricately designed mask.

It's made of metal, but it's so thin and light, that I can't imagine it being bothersome. The metal isn't solid black, with little lines, spaces, and filigree curls that promise to still show the skin of my face. The right side is also higher than the left, winding up over where my temple will sit beneath it while the other side will sit along my brow and cheek bones. Looking at it, I know it won't do as much to conceal my identity as the more traditional masks you see everywhere, but I figure I can play around with my eye makeup enough to help with that.

"H-how much?" I stammer, wondering if that even matters.

"Seventy-five," Carmen replies.

I decide to go for the extra purchase, because I'm fairly certain that anything I find at the party store now will only look like a cheap novelty piece now. Besides, $325 doesn't seem unreasonable for a big party, right? I'll probably have to wear a pair of heels I already own, but I've got a few pairs that could work quite well.

After paying for my dress and mask, I walk a few blocks over to the mall and head straight to Victoria's Secret where I pick out a simple black strapless bra and a matching thong. It's perhaps not the most risqué set of undergarments I own, but I don't think Edward will notice; underwear is underwear to a guy, after all.

It surprises me just how little time all of this took, and after only a couple hours, I'm back to waiting for my bus to Edward's place. The entire time, I'm beyond anxious for the party tomorrow night, and moreover, to see the look on Edward's face when he sees me all dolled up for the first time tomorrow night.

Edward's not expecting me back at his place for another couple hours, because I honestly thought it would take me the better part of today to find what I needed, so I look forward to surprising him and spending the rest of the afternoon together. I step off the bus in front of his building and head through the front door, greeting the doorman with a curt nod. I don't think he knows who I am, but he doesn't try to stop me, either, so I continue on toward the elevator.

When I reach Edward's floor, I step off the elevator, adjusting the garment bag holding my dress in my arms, and walk briskly down the hall. Reaching into my pocket, I grab my keys and unlock the door. Excited, I step over the threshold, closing the door behind me, and rush toward the living room.

"Guess who got herself a sexy new dress for tomorrow night?" I call out, rounding the corner. "I'm not sure if I'm more excited for you to see me in it or for you to rip it off of me." I stop dead in my tracks, choking on the words that have just spewed from my mouth as I take in the very unexpected sight before me. Inhaling sharply, my heart begins to race, thundering painfully against my ribs.

Edward has company, and I just outed our relationship to him.

"J-Jasper," I squeak, my knees threatening to give out. He's looking at me, his eyes wide and full of shock, and my first instinct is to flee the room. To hide somewhere and tell myself this didn't just happen. I know it's stupid and obviously not the best course of action or even going to work, but that's where my brain goes in the moment.

His eyes move from me to Edward, and then he gives his head a quick shake as if to clear it. "Wait. What's going on here?" he asks, but before either of us can answer, he carries on. "You two?" He points at Edward. "You're the older guy she's seeing?" He looks back at me. "And you're the younger girl?"

A part of me still thought Jasper had it all figured out, but as he continues to stammer and move his gaze between us, I realize he didn't know any more than anyone else, other than Sue.

Until I ruined it all.

Again.

Edward and I remain silent. I'm honestly not sure what to say, not that it matters, because Jasper stands up. I fear what he's going to say, especially given Sue's initial reaction to finding out.

"Well, this explains a lot," he says, running his fingers through his curly blonde hair. He surprises us both, keeping his composure and drawing our eyes to his. He fixes his gaze on mine again, and I grow nervous. "Have you told your dad yet?"

I shake my head, my palm starting to sweat around the hanger holding my dress. "N-not yet. We're telling him in a couple of days." Before he can say anything else, I drop my dress and Victoria's Secret bag to the floor and start toward him. "Look, Jasper—"

Holding his hands up, he shakes his head. "I told you not to justify your relationship. That's between the two of you." He pauses. "I mean, yeah, I'm a little surprised I didn't see this for what it was, but you're both happier than I've seen in a while. Nobody can deny that." This time when he pauses, the air in the room thickens and feels foreboding. "This isn't going to be easy, though. You guys know that, right? Charlie's going to flip his shit. It was one thing when he thought you were seeing some older guy . . . but his best friend?"

I lean against the wall, unable to hold myself up anymore, and thrust my fingers through my hair. "We know," I assure him. "It's why we were waiting until after Christmas."

"Look," Jasper continues, "I love you both, and as unusual as your situation is, I can see that you make each other happy. But you need to come clean. Remember what I told you, Bella."

I nod slowly as Jasper turns to Edward with an awkward smile, picking up a large envelope from the coffee table. "I should go," he announces. "I'll have these sent to Tanya tomorrow, but everything's in order."

"Right. Thanks," Edward replies, not looking at Jasper, his gaze fixed worriedly on me instead.

As Jasper vacates the room, the condo door closing behind him, I slide to the floor, my hands shaking as I run them through my hair again, frustrated. "I can't believe I did that," I mumble, dropping my forehead to my bent knees and groaning.

I feel Edward's presence before I feel his hands on mine, gently freeing them from my hair and pulling me to my feet. "You didn't know he was here, and I didn't think you'd be home for a couple more hours, otherwise I'd have called." Edward smirks slightly before adding, "So I guess it's safe to say he didn't know at Christmas, huh?"

"That's not funny." I want to mean it, but I fail at suppressing a smile.

"It is a little." His eyes drift to my discarded bags, and I realize my new bra is half out of the bag. Edward picks it up and cocks a brow. "So, you had a successful shopping trip?"

My smile widens as I remember everything I got today, and the Jasper thing is momentarily on the back burner. "Actually, yeah. I found my dress—it's perfect—and the mask is exquisite." I snatch the bra from his grasp and pick up my other things from the floor. "I needed a new strapless bra for under the dress, so I made a quick stop before coming home."

"Strapless?" Edward says, sounding a little dazed as his eyes light up with piqued interest. "Do I get to see it? The dress?"

Shaking my head, I step up onto my toes and kiss him lightly. Unlike the day Sue found out about Edward and me, I'm glad that my run-in with Jasper doesn't seem to have affected us. Maybe it's because, while somewhat surprised, he was more accepting than she was originally. Sure, she came around, but for the rest of that night, things between the three of us were more than just a little awkward.

Or maybe this is just getting easier, and by the time we tell Dad in a couple of days, we'll have worried for nothing.

Okay, I'm not really that naïve.

Edward continues to stare down into my eyes, awaiting my answer. I give him a playful smirk and sling my garment bag over my shoulder "Not until tomorrow. But I think you'll really like it."

"Not even a little peek?" he tries again, using his thumb and index finger to indicate just how tiny a peek he's asking for. He really is adorable right now, and I very briefly contemplate honouring his request.

But I choose not to, obviously. I'll make him sweat it out a little. It's more fun that way.

As I back toward the hall and head to the bedroom, he follows me, sitting on the bed while I hang my dress on the back of the door and turn to him with a shrug. "Sorry. I don't want to ruin the surprise." I saunter toward him, pushing my way between his thighs as his hands find my hips. "Believe me when I say the wait will be worth it."

With a sigh that's so juvenile it's hard to take too seriously, Edward admits defeat, his fingers dancing lightly across my ass and lower back as he pouts a little. "Fine."

Leaning forward, I kiss his slightly protruding bottom lip. "How about I show you something else?" I suggest, allowing my voice to drop a couple octaves as I press my hands to his chest and push him down on his bed. He smirks, propping himself up on his elbows as I grip the hem of my shirt and begin to pull it up my body.

"Slowly," he tells me, his own voice low and gravelly now as his eyes take in the bare skin of my belly. I love it when he sounds like this; the lust and desire he feels for me laces every note and seeps deep into my pores.

Always one to please, I comply, arching a brow questioningly and receiving an affirmative nod from him that tells me he's happy with my set pace. His green eyes gleam with longing as they devour every inch of newly exposed flesh. I pull the shirt over my head and drop it to the floor before I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, letting it fall down my arms as I move to unbutton my jeans next. Edward's breathing deepens, his eyes darken, and I can see his arousal straining against his pants.

Once I'm fully disrobed, I beckon him by curling my index finger as I take two steps away from him, and he pushes himself up until he's standing before me. I remove his shirt next while he makes quick work of his jeans. The desperation in his eyes mirrors my own, and when he makes a move to pull me back toward the bed, I stop him, shaking my head before dropping to my knees in front of him.

It's not surprising that he's already this aroused, and I love how his body responds to mine—even if there's very little touching involved.

Above me, Edward's breath shudders when I wrap my hand around his erection, stroking it once before wrapping my lips around it. His fingers thread through my hair in less than a second, and he groans, low and guttural, as his hips fight the urge to thrust forward too quickly.

I take my time, moving my head back and forth before laving his length with my tongue, and when I look up at him through my lashes, I find him staring at me with a burning intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself torn; on one hand, I'm thoroughly enjoying watching him come apart at the seams from this angle, but I also have this deep need to have him inside me.

He must pick up what I'm feeling, because with a growl that excites me to my very core, he pulls me to my feet. There's a momentary feeling of loss that I feel, but it disappears the minute he crushes his lips to mine, his tongue insistent as it prods my lips open and slides against my own. His cock presses against my belly, and I work hard to snake an arm between us so I can touch it again. My fingers barely brush the slick skin when he grabs my wrist and roughly turns me around.

Now, we've done quick and dirty, up-against-the-wall sex before, but there's something about this that excites me further.

Edward presses his chest to my back, lightly brushing my hair away from my neck as he peppers it with delicate kisses and several tingly nips of his teeth. I moan in response, goosebumps prickling all over my skin as his warm breath fans across it, and I press my thighs together in an effort to quell the delightfully increasing throb of arousal.

"Edward," I pant as his hands move over my breasts and down my body, lightly grazing my pussy.

The next thing I know, he's bending me over the end of his bed, his hands and lips traveling up my spine and making my knees threaten to give out beneath me. I feel his cock brush against my ass as he continues to move behind me, and this drives me mad with lust. I'm only seconds away from begging him to take me . . .

Though, something tells me this is exactly what he wants.

I open my mouth to speak, but a shameless moan fills the room instead, and I press my ass back into him in hopes he'll accept that as a silent plea. The pressure of his hand moving up my spine is both relaxing and sets my body on fire, and when he reaches my neck, I yelp when he wraps the length of my hair around his wrist and fists it firmly. The tingle in my scalp rushes through my body, exciting me further, and this time I do beg.

"Edward . . ." My voice strains through the desire, and I turn my head as much as I can beneath his hold. "_Please_."

I feel the heat of his body as he leans over me, his back touching mine, the energy between us sizzling. His teeth graze the shell of my ear, and I fist the blankets beneath me. "What do you want me to do?" he asks gruffly, thrusting his hips against my backside.

"F-fuck me," I stammer. "I want you to fuck me—" the next words to leave my mouth are unexpected, but he responds as I expect any man would "—hard and fast."

Keeping his hold on my hair, Edward straightens up slightly, his free hand grabbing my hip as he guides himself into me. Our simultaneous groan of contentment fills his bedroom, and then he does as I asked: he fucks me hard and fast, his hips moving furiously behind me until both our bodies are covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My climax doesn't take long to build, having been slowly swelling inside me since before I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, so it doesn't surprise me that after only a few short minutes, I'm falling over the edge with him.

When his hips stop moving behind me, I let my knees finally give out and fall to the bed, breathing heavily and revelling in how fiercely my heart pounds against my chest. Edward relaxes on the bed next to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me softly, and I nuzzle into his side, inhaling deeply at the crook of his neck.

"Mmm," I hum, basking in the way every square inch of my skin is still tingling in the wake of my orgasm. "That was incredible."

"Yeah?" he inquires, seeming somewhat uneasy. "I wasn't . . . too rough?"

Just _thinking_ about how he'd turned me around and taken me makes my toes curl and my belly flip. "Oh god . . . not at all," I assure him with a sigh, stretching my body beside him. "I'm all right with a little kink every once in a while. Scarves, handcuffs, blindfolds . . . you know, that sort of thing."

He shifts next to me, and when I look up, I find his eyes on mine, a look of shock and awe obvious in them. "You just keep surprising me."

"What? Don't tell me you've never engaged in a little light bondage before?" Now I'm the one who's surprised. I mean, I know Tanya never really seemed the type to experiment in the bedroom—that stick up her ass didn't really leave much room for anything else—but surely he'd been with women before who'd been into that sort of thing, right?

Edward chuckles, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink that travels to the tips of his ears. "I can't say that I have, actually."

I pull away from him and roll onto my stomach, propping myself up on my arms. "How is that possible?"

Edward shrugs, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I guess I just hadn't been lucky enough to find someone as sexually liberated as you," he confesses.

Before I can say anything else—not that I know how to even respond to hearing his confession—he smirks that devilish smirk of his and wraps his arm around me, pulling me close again. "Now, about these handcuffs . . ."

I laugh as his lips descend on the column of my throat, and soon we're going for round two. Sadly, I don't have my handcuffs with me, but one of Edward's ties does the job in a pinch.

**::: FmF :::**

Edward's given me free rein of his bedroom to get ready, taking his tux with him to the washroom. Earlier that morning, I had a "quick" shower—with Edward, of course—and then had a late brunch and watched a bit of TV before we had to start getting ready. Now, being a girl, I have quite a bit more primping to do than Edward, so he actually does some light house-cleaning and offers to go and pick up my shoes from my apartment while I start curling my hair and doing my makeup.

Of course, this means I had to tell him the colour of my dress. I was sure to request a specific pair—my black four-inch, peep-toe sling-backs—though, not sure if I could trust his fashion sense enough to choose on his own.

The party is to start at six that evening. It's a catered sit-down dinner followed by a dance. I'm really looking forward to it, not only because it's my first masquerade ball, but also because it's the first public date that Edward and I will have. Sure, we won't be coming right out in the open with our relationship, but that's only a couple of days away.

It's actually hard to believe that within the next couple of days, my father will know, and we'll be able to tell everyone—well, everyone who doesn't already know, that is.

While I style my hair, I take the low-cut back of my dress into consideration, sweeping my loosely curled hair over my left shoulder and securing it with several hairpins. When it comes to my makeup, I use dark plums and smoky blacks to enhance the deep brown and gold colour of my eyes. Normally, I keep my eye makeup pretty understated, but since I'll be wearing a mask, I really want to accentuate them and make them pop.

And pop, they do.

By five o'clock, my hair and makeup are finished, and I remove my dress from its bag on the back of Edward's door. Before I move away from the door, I hear shuffling from the other side and imagine Edward pacing about nervously. I can just imagine him in his black tux, running his long fingers through his unruly copper hair, and I smile, turning away to start getting dressed.

I discard my shorts and tank top to the end of the bed and pull on the new underwear and bra I bought. Then I step into the dress and zip it up. Once my boobs are where they should be, I turn back to the full-length mirror that hangs on Edward's closet door and smile so wide and genuinely, my eyes shine.

When I'd tried the dress on in the shop, I'd fallen in love with it, but I knew that having my hair and makeup done would complete the look . . . and I was right.

With my hair spilling over my shoulder, all loose curls and shine, and my smoky eyes and deep red lips, the dress looks even more incredible. It hugs my body better than anything I'd ever worn before, and I find myself even more excited to show Edward.

Before I exit the bedroom, I grab my mask from the box on the bed and hold it up to my face. I don't tie it in place just yet, because I'm waiting until we get to the party, but I love the finished look, and the smoky black and purple eye makeup only enhances the mask.

More than happy with the finished result, I pull open Edward's door to find him just a few feet away, pacing as I'd suspected. He looks even better than I'd imagined, all dressed up in a sleek black tux, and it's obvious that he's put a little more effort into taming his hair, but it still has a mind of its own. I prefer it this way, though.

He must catch a glimpse of me in his periphery, because he stops the minute I step into the hall, and his eyes sweep over me from head to toe before they meet mine. I fidget with my mask nervously as I await his reaction. He's not giving much away, but he's speechless . . .

That has to be a good sign. Right?

* * *

**A/N2: So, there it is. Chapter 10. What did you all think? Turns out Jasper didn't know as much as Bella thought, even though he did pick up on how nervous they both were.  
****  
**

**The Ball is in the next chapter, and I'm really looking forward to it. How about all of you?**

I'm anxious to hear what you all thought of the chapter and what you hope to see coming up!

Until next time! 

**xoxo**


End file.
